The lights dimmed inside the shop as night rolled in — not like a normal sky shift, but like a veil being pulled over the city.
Shadows thickened. Magic settled deeper. The moon blinked awake with a slight tilt, like it was watching.
Thenaia stepped forward, palm raised.
A small glyph flared into the air.
And the hologram appeared.
Thenaia raised her palm.
A soft blue glow lit her fingers — ancient glyphs curling upward like smoke.
The scroll responded, floating midair.
Then it opened itself, and from within — a figure bloomed.
Not an image.
A memory, stitched in light.
The God of Destruction revealed himself in silence.
Not a beast.
Not a flame.
But a man — or the memory of one.
He stood upright.
His face was visible, and that was the worst part.
Not masked. Not obscured.
It was beautiful — in the way that statues mourned.
Skin pale as chalk cracked by time.
Eyes golden and gives burning sensation.
Lips sealed with molten gold.
No expression. No wrath. Just inevitability.
His chest was torn open, bloodless but weeping black smoke — the wound looping endlessly in a circle, like it had been cut out and sewn back wrong.
Hands?
He had them — but they weren't attached.
They floated around him, wrapped in sheer cloth, drifting like satellite moons made of regret.
Sometimes they reached.
Sometimes they folded like prayer.
But they never touched him.
He had a crown — not of gold, but of burned stone, fused symbols, cracked runes from lost languages spiraling slowly above his skull like the orbit of forgotten gods.
And his presence?
It didn't scream.
It didn't rage.
It just was.
Like the last line of a prophecy that never got to finish.
THENAIA (softly):
"If he awakens, the world folds in on itself.
He is not a destroyer by choice. He's just... what happens next when everything is broken."
No one spoke.
Even the mannequin had nothing to say.
MARRA (after a beat):
"Now you understand why we don't let legends breathe too long."
Ren rubbed his face and groaned.
REN:
"Right. Cool. Great.
Giant world-ending flaming cryptid...
Can I go now?"
MARRA (nodding):
"Of course.
But if you remember anything… or if you want to help, come back."
REN:
"You're inviting me back after I almost sold a cursed cloak to a soup witch?"
MARRA (smirking):
"You're entertaining. I value chaos."
Ren gave her a tired salute and walked out into the cool night.
Outside Emberstone – A Broken Ruin Overlook
He found an old staircase that led to what used to be a garden tower, now mostly rubble. The perfect place to be alone with a sky that couldn't make up its mind between stars and static.
He sat down.
Silence.
Then—
AETHERIUM CORE (from within):
"Permission to finally speak, Captain?"
REN (startled):
"Oh. Right.
You guys were suspiciously quiet today. That was... weird."
BLAZE (flaring to life):
"We were trying to not scare the thread witch."
FROST (gliding in behind him):
"Also, you kept embarrassing yourself.
We didn't want to be associated."
REN (rolling eyes):
"Gee, thanks. Appreciate the loyalty."
GRAVITY (low, cold):
"She spoke the truth.
The God of Destruction is not mythical.
He is coded into collapse theory."
SPACE (warped voice shifting mid-word):
"He exists where timelines fold inward.
A knot in purpose. A scar where logic failed."
TIME (soft and lewd):
"Mmm. He's like the final orgasm of the universe. Messy. Loud. Regretful."
REN (blinking):
"...You could've said anything else. Literally anything."
SNARKSTEEL (popping into hand on its own):
"If he's a god, I wanna stab him in the eyeball and say something cool like
'No refunds for existence.'"
REN:
"Wait… you all knew about this god-destruction bullshit already?"
AETHERIUM CORE:
"We suspected. Not confirmed. This is the first time mortals have linked it to Crestflare."
FROST:
"And if that's what Ashrunner wants…"
BLAZE:
"...Then this whole place is already halfway cooked."
Ren looked up at the stars.
Some twinkled like normal.
Some… pulsed.
REN (quiet):
"Okay. So what do I do?
I'm not a crestflame holder. I'm not a prophet.
I'm the soup guy."
GRAVITY:
"You walk.
Until the world decides what you are."
TIME:
"You're not nothing, darling.
You're just... the gap between pages.
The story hasn't called your name yet."
SPACE:
"...But it will."
Ren closed his eyes.
The wind moved like breath.
REN (softly):
"Okay.
Then tomorrow... we walk."