Chapter Fifty-Four

It had been some time when Atum had last entered the centre of a city. He sometimes frequented wine-bars, mingled at the more exclusive clubs, but they were often set away from the general hub. The wear and tear of life assaulted his senses every time he looked at the towering offices and slumped figures in their suits, carrying the majority of their life in a branded briefcase.

The luxurious cars went past, carrying their bosses and showing off the wealth they had at the expense of their workers. Yet still some refused to acknowledge it.

Even like this, desolate and quiet, it still reeked of corruption and capitalism. Although that was perhaps not quite as bad as the dead and dying, the stanch of rot and welling chaos.

"Lead me to the museum," Atum ordered. "The potion I have needs a better vessel and I should be able to find one there. The residue of history adds potency to these charms, heightens them."

<