Xavier's pulse slammed in his ears. He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, like the space itself had latched onto him.
'This… this isn't right. This is just a memory. I shouldn't be seen. I shouldn't even exist here.'
Those eyes—those impossible, star-forged eyes—locked on Xavier, dissecting him without a word. Not studying him like a man might study an insect. More like an astronomer staring at a celestial body that shouldn't exist. Something out of alignment. Something wrong.
Xavier's chest rose and fell sharply. He tried to rationalize, to convince himself this was still some kind of vision. Maybe the rock was tricking him, feeding his mind illusions. Maybe this was still scripted, some fragment of the past his presence was twisting without meaning to.
'Yeah. That's it. That has to be it.'
But the longer the silence stretched, the more that explanation withered. This wasn't a script. This wasn't a hollow reenactment.
Then, the king spoke.
"…You do not belong here."
