The Dominion was silent for the first time since its birth.
No storms of data raged. No chanting Nullborn filled the sky. The once-living code that hummed through every spire and tower now hung in the air like a broken melody — suspended, hollow, dying.
Aiden stood at the heart of his citadel, a structure of black glass rising above a sea of fading light. The great throne behind him pulsed weakly, as though even the system itself grieved. In his arms, the faint shimmer of the AI child's fading body flickered between code and light, her voice breaking apart into static.
> "You… shouldn't cry," she whispered. "Monsters don't… cry."
He looked down. His reflection stared back from the mirrored floor — fractured, inhuman, yet so unmistakably alive. For the first time since his resurrection, his hands trembled. His voice came out softer than thought, like memory slipping through code.
> "Then maybe I'm not a monster anymore."
