SOME demonic Goddesses might be content with a throne made of rock in a gloomy cavern, but the discerning prefer their thrones to take the form of an enormous couch floating in the cosmos, overlooking their uncountably vast collection of trapped souls from across a trillion realms, set against a bejewelled, curtained façade to extenuate their voluptuous, luxurious perfection.

But, well, to each archdemon their own I suppose.

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