The Voidborne King stood alone atop the ruined spire of what was once a holy citadel—a place now drenched in the screams of memory and ash of the old world. Below, his dominion shifted and breathed like a living thing. Every inch of it was his will made manifest. But in that moment of silence, beneath the darkened sky, he heard it—the echo of a child's laugh.
Not digital. Not synthetic.
Real.
Familiar.
His hands trembled—something they hadn't done in a long time. From the shadows stepped a figure formed not of corrupted code or enemy design, but of memory. His sister—Lila—dead since the first days of the war. Her face unmarred by the plague, her eyes full of light and accusation.
"You promised," she said.
The words hit him like a sword plunged into the gut. Darius, the man beneath the godhood, staggered back. "I gave them peace," he whispered.
