behind the thrones, two windows flickered like video screens: one showing desolation, the other alicante under attack. the throne was huge, it was like climbing up onto a platform. the gold of it was icy to her touch. she reached the last step, turned and took her seat.
It is written: we appear to men like angels of light. Light is an effective fire and fire will burn. These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph, die, like fire and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume.