The void had grown quieter.
Not in peace. Not in stillness. But in anticipation.
After the Naming, the pressure changed. The endless hush that once devoured sound now seemed to wait—like something listening. Not just hearing. Listening.
Aiden stood at the edge of a memory not his own, feet resting on the fractured spine of a dead constellation. The stars beneath him pulsed faintly, echoing names long lost. And beyond that horizon, the void trembled.
"It remembers now," murmured Myne, her voice barely above the breath of existence. "We woke something."
Aiden nodded slowly. The first word—the naming—was not merely defiance. It was declaration. In a realm where forgetting was power, to name was to bring light to shadow, to scream into a silence older than creation.
He could still feel it—the reverberation of that name, etched in his mind like flame on old parchment.
They had called the void's heart Nullith.
And Nullith… was listening.
