The obsidian throne room of Atlantis had never hosted such a gathering. Reality seemed to bend and warp around the assembled figures, each one a force of nature given form, each one a god or entity that the pantheons above had tried to forget or suppress.
Adam sat upon his throne, Luna beside him, as the air itself crackled with barely contained power. Through the great windows, he could see the armies of the pantheons gathering on the horizons—Olympus gleaming to the east, Asgard's golden halls floating overhead, the Celestial Court's jade spires in the distance. But his attention was focused on the beings now materialising within his throne room.
