Xavier set the slate carefully beside the altar, its jagged surface catching the faint glow of the goddess' fragment. He stood there in silence for a moment, then exhaled and spoke.
"I touched it," he said quietly, almost like confessing a sin. "Saw everything inside. It wasn't just flashes. I could move. I could… talk… with him. What was all that?"
The soft radiance around the altar shifted, and her voice answered, serene yet edged with weight.
"It was a record. The slate preserves fragments of the galactic wars."
Xavier's eyes narrowed. "Then the man I saw… was he really—"
"His name," the goddess cut gently, "...was Zephyros. The first. The founding emperor of Zenith. The one who carved an empire from chaos."
Xavier stared at the floor, his jaw tightening. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "So he was truly my ancestor."
"What happened after? Why did the enemies break in? Did he survive?" Xavier asked curiously.
