The night was unnaturally still. Above the Eternal Tree, the stars bent inward, folding like an eye gazing down upon the world. The air grew heavy, saturated with an ancient presence.
Igaris stood alone on the balcony, his black cloak stirring in the wind. His golden eyes narrowed as the voice came, deep and endless, filling the sky.
"Igaris Vance."
The voice was not thunder, nor was it whisper. It was the world itself speaking. The Will of Orca.
"You were chosen to do more than conquer. You were chosen to restore me. To bring back what was cut away, what was lost. Gilgamesh… my counterpart. My reflection of wrath, of hunger, of ambition. The shadow of my will. Without him, I remain broken. Incomplete. And you—my vessel of power—have failed me."
The words struck like stone, echoing in the marrow of his bones.
