The goddess sat alone in the darkness between worlds.
Her form was settled now—the pale skin, the silver-streaked hair, the eyes like old blood. She was beautiful in the way ancient things were beautiful. Cold. Timeless. Untouchable.
A satisfied smile curved her lips.
She had done it. The seed was planted. The Progenitor—her finest failure—had finally agreed to grow. Soon he would ascend. Soon he would become the weapon she needed.
Her smile widened.
Then it vanished.
Her head snapped up. Her eyes widened. Her blood—if she still had blood—ran cold.
She felt it.
A presence. Ancient. Familiar. Terrifying.
"No."
The word was barely a whisper.
She looked up at the endless darkness, at the space between stars, at the void she had hidden in for millennia.
"Not now. Not yet."
The presence grew stronger.
A voice—not loud, not soft. Just present. Like it had always been there, waiting for her to notice.
"I found you."
The goddess's hands trembled.
"You can't—"
