The corridor leading to Metatron's chamber traversed some of the oldest areas of Eden, and this meant two very clear things. First: everything was absurdly beautiful in an offensive way, as if each stone had been carved by artists incapable of accepting imperfection. Second: now everything was partially wet because of Vergil.
Water still trickled between golden reliefs, descended staircases in shimmering rivulets, and formed shallow mirrors on the white marble floor. Some lesser angels silently cleaned the path in resentful silence, averting their gaze whenever Vergil passed. Others watched from afar as if witnessing a plague walking upright.
