He stood among the bodies.
The clone Lucifer's chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths. His bare feet shifted slightly against the blood-slicked pavement, toes curling against cooling flesh. His black hair fell forward, dripping with streaks of red. Around him lay the remains of dozens of clones—some torn in half, some decapitated, some burned beyond recognition by the crimson aura that still flickered faintly around his arms.
He looked down at his hands. Blood dripped from his fingertips, forming small crimson pools between his toes. His eyes glowed dimly—black sclera framing irises the colour of burning rubies. He raised his head, turning slowly to scan the silent courtyard.
