The simulation trembled again—not from conflict, but resonance. Something ancient and deeply personal had just entered the fractured plane.
Jay stood at the outer wall of the reformed east tower. The world was trying to mend itself again—soft blue pixels rising in columns, floating and vanishing like butterflies. Yet amidst that quiet reconstruction, something foreign disrupted the rhythm.
A low chime echoed.
A pulse through the system.
Jay turned as a portal of golden hexagons shimmered open behind him.
A cloaked envoy stepped through.
Not a soldier. Not a warden.
An automaton—silver and sapphire, etched with House Renvale's ancient crest—hovered toward him. From its core emerged a cylindrical scroll, sealed with golden wax bearing the unmistakable mark: the Crowned Tree of Light.
House Renvale.
Alicia's family crest.
