Cyrus Thorn tried again.
He extended his divine sense into it, attempting to form a connection, to establish even the faintest resonance.
Still nothing. It was like trying to command the sun by touching its surface. Useless.
Cyrus slowly lowered his hand, his expression darkening. The anger did not explode. It condensed.
He had lived long enough to know that blind rage solved nothing.
His eyes narrowed slightly as his thoughts shifted away from the World Heart and toward himself.
If he could not control it, then the issue was not the artifact… it was the chain binding him.
A faint pressure began to rise from his body—not the overwhelming aura of the Bone Emperor that the outside world feared, but something deeper.
Something more focused. Like a blade being slowly drawn from its sheath. He exhaled once, long and steady.
"I won't remain like this," he said. Not a vow shouted to the heavens. Not a declaration meant for others.
Just a simple truth spoken to himself.
