The golden portal of Natass opened in a blinding flash, spewing Morningstar and the ten survivors—Gills, Soehpt, Kira, Tyrnat, Yulius, Nera, Bhaadon, Solom, Orak, and Razhïel—into a tunnel of swirling darkness. The shadow chains of Noctis Aeternae clinked around the weary bodies of the Great Tyrants, their ragged breaths echoing in the confined space. Morningstar strode at the forefront, his six shadowy wings folded, his black armor glinting under an invisible light, while Natass practically danced ahead of him, his cane rhythmically tapping against a floor that did not yet exist. "Patience, Lucifer," the imp called in a shrill voice, a malicious grin stretching his lips. "We're almost there."
The tunnel suddenly widened, and a warm gust, laced with a sweet and venomous scent, swept across their faces. They emerged onto a vast ashen plain, dominated by a colossal silhouette on the horizon: the Black Eden, Lilith's domain. A wall of black stone veined with red rose like a living fortress, its twisted towers piercing a twilight sky streaked with purple clouds. Thorny vines, glistening with scarlet sap, crawled over the ramparts, their carnivorous flowers opening and closing in a silent ballet. Beyond the walls, towering trees with dark foliage loomed, their branches laden with shimmering black fruits—a perverse echo of the original Eden.
Morningstar halted, his red eyes flickering beneath his helm. "Black Eden…" he murmured, his hoarse voice tinged with curiosity and wariness. Natass cackled, striking his cane against the ground. "A fitting name, don't you think? Lilith always had a fondness for biblical ironies." The survivors, barely conscious, raised haggard gazes toward the fortress, their bodies still heavy with the exhaustion of the crater. Gills growled, his red flames crackling weakly. "Where… are we?" Natass spun around, his monocle glinting. "At the home of she who will make you Tyrants worthy of the Crown… or exquisite corpses."
The journey was brief but grueling. A massive arch opened in the wall, revealing a suspension bridge over a chasm where shifting shadows writhed, their whispers hissing like serpents. Morningstar's chains dragged the survivors across the bridge, their footsteps echoing on polished obsidian slabs. On the other side, inner gardens stretched out—a dark parody of Eden. Trees with twisted black trunks bore rotten apples glowing with an unhealthy light, streams of blood flowed between beds of roses with razor-sharp petals, and broken statues of angels wept scarlet tears into shimmering pools. A light mist hung in the air, heavy with an intoxicating scent that seemed to seep into the mind.