Something cracked.
Not space.
Not a star.
Not even a bone.
It was deeper. Somewhere inside Joshua — something broke open.
He didn't scream.
He exhaled.
A shuddering breath that didn't belong to a man anymore.
Kaelor—no, the Root God—stopped mid-step. His white eyes narrowed, the vines around his shoulders twitching like they sensed it too. Mael's broken scales hovered in stillness, frozen in balance, but even he tilted his head, curious.
Joshua didn't glow this time.
He burned.
Golden light pulsed once—then inverted. Darkness bled into the cracks of reality around him, followed by crimson arcs of lightning. His skin didn't just shine—it peeled, like a shell being torn away.
And beneath it—
Something older.
Older than law. Older than balance. Older than roots.
Horns.
Not large. Not towering. But ancient. Black, twisted, and beautiful. They curled up from his skull like forgotten crowns, each one etched with runes that pulsed of their own accord.
