The stars' expressions turned ugly.
The shockwave alone had hurled them far away from Atticus. No matter how much they struggled, they couldn't move closer. It was as though reality itself forbade it.
"You're joking." The Span stared at the scene in horror. "Tell me he's not actually doing that. Tell me he's not doing that right now."
"I'm afraid he is." The Great Verge's expression remained composed, but the tension in his eyes betrayed him. What Atticus was doing was simply that shocking.
The process of ascension beyond the Middle Planes was becoming a star.
To become a star, one first had to attain Absolute Will, then compress their entire will, from the one residing within themselves to the one spread across all their gathered worlds, into a single point.
A star.
A being acknowledged by the world itself as part of its machinations. However, the process was never as simple as it sounded.
