Darkness. Then twilight.
Not the absence of light—but the tension between two truths.
Celestia stood barefoot atop the Echoing Spire, the highest point of the Nexus Citadel. The stars swirled unnaturally above her—neither real nor fully simulated. They danced in patterns carved by Darius's new mythos.
She exhaled slowly. Her breath shimmered with spectral energy.
She could feel it now—the fracture inside herself.
Since Darius had seized the Forge Throne and unraveled the Prime Code, she had changed. Her body still bled warmth, her heart still beat—but she was no longer merely a woman, nor even a priestess.
She was becoming something else.
[The Voice of the Twilight]
"Celestia." The voice that spoke her name was not Darius's, though it echoed with his power. It was older, gentler, laced with sorrow and cosmic awe.
