The obsidian throne room materialised around Adam as he completed his teleportation, the familiar dark stone providing a stark contrast to the devastation he had left behind in the fairy realm. The air still crackled with residual energy from Thor's final explosion, and Adam's clothes hung in tatters, electrical burns marking his pale skin like a network of lightning scars.
He moved with mechanical precision, his face a mask of controlled fury as he gently lowered the unconscious forms of Mab and Merlin to the floor beside his throne. The fairy queen's breathing was steady but shallow, her ethereal beauty marred by the violence she had endured. Merlin lay nearby, his ancient robes torn and his broken staff clutched protectively against his chest.
