In the dead fractures of time—between one second's end and the next's beginning—Cytherea stood.
There was no floor beneath her feet. No sky above her head. Only a splintered mirror of time and possibility, reflecting every moment that was, and every moment that could be.
She wore a black dress that drank the starlight and a veil that flowed like shadow spun from midnight silk. Her skin glowed faintly, too perfect for this broken realm. And her eyes… bottomless wells of black, carried no reflection. Only conclusion.
Before her played the scene in Vrasnia. Vanessa's revelation. Kazimir's resolve. Riah's shaken faith.
She watched it all unfold like pages in a book she'd already read a thousand times.
Cytherea did not speak.She did not need to.
Her very presence was the question:What will they choose? And does it even matter?
A ripple passed through the strands of possibility. One of the strings—thick, pulsing with Nullity—trembled in warning. Her head tilted ever so slightly. The thread connected Kazimir… to Rygar.
She raised one gloved hand and reached toward the thread.
And paused.
Another thread pulsed beside it. One she never expected.
Felicia.She had shifted.Her thread, once faint and weak, now burned with phoenix fire and fractured memories.
Cytherea lowered her hand.
The future had changed.
Again.
She turned away from the vision of Vrasnia, the fragments of time swirling around her like constellations—and walked deeper into the storm.
Elsewhere: The Weeping Throne of Solaris
High above the mortal planes, within the ruins of the Celestial Cradle where once Solaris ruled, Elicia stood.
The throne—an enormous obsidian sun haloed in gold—was cracked. Veins of grief and time decay bled through its divine form. Starlight no longer poured from its center. Only silence remained.
Elicia stood before it in ceremonial armor laced with dragonbone and radiant silk. Her wings, white with streaks of fading gold, shimmered only faintly. The light was dying. Just like her.
And she knew it.
She placed a trembling hand on the side of the throne, closing her eyes.
Elicia: (whispering) "Forgive me, Solaris… I've held your seat longer than I was ever meant to."
She opened her eyes, and they burned blue—sad, and yet defiant.
Elicia: "They know now. Riah… and Kazimir. They're closer to the end than they realize."
From above her, a pulse rang out.
A flare of divine energy—a warning.
Cytherea had moved. The timelines had shifted. And Rygar… was stirring again.
Elicia turned to the fading map of the stars, where cosmic threads danced like veins of fate across the sky.
Elicia: (softly) "The war is coming. And I no longer know if we are the architects… or the sacrifices."
Her gaze fell downward—toward Earth. Toward Capriha. Toward the final battlegrounds.
Elicia: "Kazimir… Riah… you will carry the last breath of the light. I pray it does not consume you."
She lowered herself to one knee and prayed to a god who no longer answered.
The celestial winds howled around her like the sobs of forgotten angels.
And from far, far beyond—Cytherea watched.
And said nothing.