The music never stopped.
It simply changed.
The frantic celebration of survival slowly melted into something softer.
War songs became festival songs.
Loud cheers became laughter.
The crystal lanterns floating above the plaza drifted lower now, their pale blue flames casting warm light over polished stone streets and smiling faces.
For once...
No one was preparing for tomorrow.
They simply existed.
Children darted between the tables chasing tiny lantern-fish that floated lazily through the air.
The translucent creatures glowed gold, violet, and pale emerald, their long shimmering fins leaving trails of sparkling light behind them.
"I almost got one!"
"No you didn't!"
"I touched its tail!"
"You touched my face!"
"That counts!"
"It absolutely doesn't!"
The little fish bobbed upward again.
Half a dozen children shrieked with laughter before racing after it.
Near the center fountain, three elderly women had gathered a circle of teenagers.
"No."
"Your feet."
The oldest woman tapped a boy's boot with her cane.
"Those are battlefield feet."
"We're dancing."
"They're the same feet."
"They shouldn't be."
She demonstrated a graceful turn.
The teenagers attempted to copy her.
One stumbled into another.
Someone spun the wrong direction entirely.
A girl burst into laughter.
The old woman sighed dramatically.
"I survived monsters..."
"...only to lose against rhythm."
Not far away, two blacksmiths stood over a massive iron grill.
"I told you."
The older one folded his arms.
"More mountain pepper."
"No."
"Less."
"More."
"Less."
"A respectable stew bites back."
"A respectable stew lets you taste your tongue afterward."
"It isn't my fault you're weak."
"I'm not weak."
"You cried."
"The stew attacked me."
"It seasoned you."
Nearby, a group of hunters had apparently abandoned every shred of dignity.
"I'm telling you..."
"I sing beautifully."
"No."
"You sound like an injured cave yak."
"I do not."
"You frightened three birds."
"They applauded."
"They fled."
"Same difference."
One hunter dramatically cleared his throat before unleashing what could only be described as a catastrophic attempt at singing.
The first note cracked.
The second somehow became worse.
By the third...
Half the plaza was laughing.
The hunter finished proudly.
"...Thank you."
Someone applauded.
Mostly out of pity.
Qaritas couldn't stop smiling.
This wasn't paradise.
People argued.
Burned food.
Missed dance steps.
Sang terribly.
Children cheated at games.
Grandparents pretended not to notice.
It wasn't perfect.
It was...
Alive.
His gaze drifted toward Goro.
The legendary Captain of the First Division was currently seated on the edge of the fountain.
Five tiny children had somehow climbed onto him.
One sat on each shoulder.
Another hung from his arm.
A fourth was attempting to braid flowers into his silver hair.
The smallest had declared his tail a dragon.
"You've been captured."
"So I've noticed."
"You must pay treasure."
"What treasure?"
"Candy."
"I don't have candy."
"Then shiny rocks."
"I don't have those either."
The smallest child gasped.
"You came completely unprepared."
"It appears I did."
Another child tugged on one of his horns.
"Can we keep him?"
Goro looked toward the nearby parents.
"I'd appreciate being consulted."
One mother laughed.
"You've already been adopted."
"...Again?"
"You really should stop looking so trustworthy."
"I'll work on appearing more dangerous."
The little girl sitting on his shoulder hugged his head.
"No."
"We like this version."
Goro smiled.
"So do I."
Qaritas watched him for a long moment.
The man who had strangled monsters larger than kingdoms...
Now sat perfectly still because a six-year-old had declared him furniture.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen something so wonderfully absurd.
Maybe...
Ever.
Inside him—
Eon said nothing.
He simply watched.
A heavy hand landed on Qaritas's shoulder.
He looked up.
An enormous man with braided stone-gray hair grinned down at him.
"You think too much."
"...Do I?"
"You've frowned at least fourteen times tonight."
"I have not."
"I counted."
"I think you counted wrong."
"I counted twice."
The giant slid a large wooden mug across the table.
"Drink."
Qaritas eyed it suspiciously.
"...What's in it?"
"A terrible decision."
"...That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be."
Goro looked over.
"...Don't."
Too late.
Qaritas picked it up.
"If I survive monsters..."
"...I can survive one drink."
He took a long swallow.
It tasted surprisingly sweet.
Then incredibly bitter.
Then somehow spicy.
Then cold.
Then hot.
Then—
His eyes watered.
"...Why..."
He coughed.
"...does it keep changing?"
The giant burst into laughter.
"Because it's working!"
Another mug appeared.
Someone else pushed it toward him.
"You handled the first one."
"I don't think I did."
"You absolutely did."
"You only cried a little."
"I wasn't crying."
"You were spiritually crying."
Laughter spread around the table.
Qaritas sighed.
"...Fine."
He drank again.
Some time later...
"...I challenge you."
The words came out with considerably more confidence than balance.
Across from him sat a hero whose forearm was roughly the width of Qaritas's waist.
The man blinked.
"...To what?"
"Arm wrestling."
Silence.
The table collectively turned toward Qaritas.
The giant looked at Goro.
"...Should we stop him?"
Goro calmly sipped his drink.
"No."
"This will be educational."
Qaritas slammed his elbow onto the table.
"I've fought cosmic horrors."
"I refuse to lose to an elbow."
The hero slowly sat down.
"...Are you sure?"
"I'm incredibly sure."
"You've had..."
He counted empty mugs.
"...quite a few."
"They made me stronger."
"They definitely made something stronger."
They clasped hands.
"Ready?"
"I was born ready."
"Begin."
Three seconds later—
SLAM.
Qaritas's hand hit the table so hard the mugs bounced.
The entire plaza erupted into laughter.
He blinked.
Looked at his hand.
Then at the enormous hero.
"...Best two out of three."
"No."
"I definitely won."
"You definitely didn't."
"I won spiritually."
"You lost physically."
"The important victory is invisible."
Even Goro laughed.
Several minutes later...
Qaritas wrapped both arms around the shoulders of an elderly soldier he had met approximately thirty seconds earlier.
"You..."
He nodded solemnly.
"...look trustworthy."
The old veteran blinked.
"...Thank you?"
"I would trust you..."
Qaritas pointed dramatically.
"...with my soup."
The old man looked genuinely honored.
"...That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"It is high praise."
"I can tell."
They embraced.
Neither of them seemed entirely sure why.
Elsewhere...
Qaritas had somehow become surrounded by children.
He stood atop a bench holding a roasted carrot like it was a royal scepter.
"Listen carefully!"
Every child looked up.
"If you eat..."
He raised the carrot higher.
"...your vegetables..."
A dramatic pause.
"...you become difficult to throw."
Silence.
One little boy raised his hand.
"...Really?"
"I think so."
Another child frowned.
"My sister eats vegetables."
"I can still throw her."
Qaritas considered this very seriously.
"...She requires additional vegetables."
The children nodded.
That sounded reasonable.
A tiny girl lifted a broccoli floret.
"Will this make me stronger?"
Qaritas pointed at her triumphantly.
"Exactly."
Another child gasped.
"I knew broccoli was magical!"
"It absolutely is."
From across the plaza—
Goro had to turn away because he was laughing too hard.
The old veteran beside him wiped tears from his eyes.
"I haven't laughed like this in decades."
Neither had Goro.
Qaritas continued his completely fabricated lecture with absolute confidence.
"...And remember..."
He lifted the carrot one final time.
"...Never trust a vegetable that glows."
A small voice interrupted.
"...This one glows."
Qaritas looked down.
The carrot in his hand was, in fact, glowing.
He stared at it for several long seconds.
Then slowly pointed toward it.
"...This..."
He nodded gravely.
"...is an exception."
The children cheered.
The plaza dissolved into laughter once more.
And for the first time in his life...
Qaritas wasn't the warrior burdened by impossible destinies.
He wasn't Eon's vessel.
He wasn't the man chosen to challenge Fragments.
He was simply...
Twenty-two years old.
Laughing beneath crystal lanterns.
Finally allowed to be young.
The bonfire had somehow become larger.
No one seemed to know who had added more wood.
Or when.
They simply accepted that celebrations in Yrtana occasionally ignored practical concerns.
Heroes gathered around the fire with mugs in hand.
The younger children had migrated closer, sitting cross-legged as though waiting for ancient legends.
Instead...
They received embarrassment.
A scarred woman with one braided silver horn raised her mug.
"I once challenged a mountain."
Someone snorted.
"A monster?"
She sighed.
"I thought it was."
"...It wasn't?"
"It was a mountain."
The entire circle burst into laughter.
"I punched it."
"What happened?"
"My hand."
Another hero pointed across the fire.
"You still have the scar."
"I earned it honestly."
"You earned it stupidly."
"There is a difference."
"There isn't."
Laughter spread again.
Another veteran leaned forward.
"I once got lost."
"Where?"
"My fortress."
Silence.
"...Your own fortress?"
"I built it."
"..."
"...In my defense..."
"There is no defense."
"It had many hallways."
"You designed them."
"I was ambitious."
"You were an idiot."
"I was both."
Even Qaritas laughed.
Across the fire another elderly warrior scratched his beard.
"I proposed to my wife during a battle."
Several heroes looked up.
"...Why?"
"I thought I was dying."
"Were you?"
"No."
"...Then why?"
"I was optimistic."
"She accepted?"
"No."
The circle blinked.
"No?"
"She said..."
He took another drink.
"'Finish the battle first.'"
The entire plaza dissolved into another wave of laughter.
"...Did you?"
"I survived."
"And then?"
"I asked again."
"...?"
"She said yes."
Someone wiped tears from their eyes.
"That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard."
"It was terrifying."
Goro slowly raised his mug.
"I have one."
Every head turned.
Even Eon became suspicious.
"...No."
Goro smiled.
"Oh yes."
"You fell into a river."
Eon answered immediately.
"That never happened."
"It absolutely happened."
"It was strategically necessary."
"You slipped."
"I adjusted my footing."
"You screamed."
"I issued a tactical warning."
"You flailed."
"I maneuvered."
"You swallowed half the river."
"It was reconnaissance."
Qaritas nearly choked laughing.
"You are making this up."
"I'm not."
Eon sighed.
"He isn't."
The laughter somehow became even louder.
Eventually...
The stories faded.
The laughter softened.
Music continued somewhere beyond the bonfire.
Not as loudly now.
Children had invented entirely new games.
Little Xheavend sprinted through the plaza chasing floating lantern-fish with several other children.
"I almost got one!"
"No you didn't!"
"I scared it!"
"You scared me!"
She laughed.
The lantern-fish escaped anyway.
A few minutes later she had somehow convinced everyone that her new staff was actually a magnificent horse.
She rode it proudly across the plaza.
"Faster!"
One little boy followed behind pretending to be a dragon.
Another declared himself a knight.
A tiny girl placed a flower crown on Xheavend's head.
She immediately made another crown for the dragon.
When she tripped over her own feet...
She landed in the grass.
Looked surprised.
Then laughed harder than anyone else.
Cake was still smeared across one cheek.
No one had cleaned it away.
Inside Qaritas...
Eon had gone completely silent.
Qaritas noticed.
He followed Eon's gaze.
Little Xheavend.
Laughing.
Running.
Completely unaware that anyone in the world wished her harm.
For a long time...
Neither of them spoke.
Then Eon whispered.
"...This..."
The words were almost carried away by the wind.
"...is how children should live."
No one interrupted.
Eon's voice remained quiet.
Not angry.
Not bitter.
Simply...
Tired.
"There is so much evil that hunts children."
The words settled heavily between them.
"And every one of them deserves worse than death."
Silence.
"Death..."
A pause.
"...is mercy."
"They deserve none."
Even Goro said nothing.
Because he knew—
Eon wasn't speaking in metaphor.
Qaritas watched Xheavend racing through the lantern light.
Then quietly asked,
"...You've always been like this."
Another pause.
"Why?"
No accusation.
Only curiosity.
Inside him—
Eon answered almost immediately.
"Because I know what happens..."
"...when no one protects them."
The fire cracked softly.
Music drifted through the night.
Eon continued.
"Mother wanted more children ."
A pause.
"Not just one."
Qaritas frowned.
"I don't understand."
"You weren't meant to."
Silence.
"She told me what she wanted from the children who came after me."
Another pause.
"What she would make them become."
His voice never changed.
"As I grew older..."
"...she became more creative."
Qaritas waited.
"Sometimes she used words."
A long silence.
"Sometimes she used knives."
Another.
"Sometimes..."
Eon stopped.
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
The silence spoke for him.
"There are wounds that never bleed."
Qaritas felt something tighten in his chest.
"...Father?"
Eon closed his eyes.
"He loved me."
A faint smile.
"He also loved her."
The smile disappeared.
"She always knew which tears to shed."
Another quiet moment.
"She convinced him I was the problem."
Qaritas looked down.
"He believed her?"
"For a while."
Then—
"When I was nine..."
The words came without emotion.
"...I killed my nanny."
Qaritas froze.
Eon continued as though describing the weather.
"Mother had instructed her to bring me back."
"She knew what waited if I returned."
A pause.
"So did I."
The fire crackled.
"No one found the truth."
"They found the body."
Another silence.
"They called me a monster."
Qaritas swallowed.
Eon's voice remained calm.
"I removed her eyes."
His tone never changed.
"I wanted to know why she looked at people the way she did."
He let the words settle.
"They were Evil Eyes."
"They revealed the darkest part of a person's heart."
"What they had hidden."
"What they had done."
"What they were capable of becoming."
He looked toward the distant children.
"I grafted them into my own flesh."
Qaritas stared into the fire.
"So that's how..."
"Yes."
"I began collecting them."
"Not for power."
"For truth."
"The guilty lied."
"The eyes didn't."
A quiet breath.
"Eventually..."
"...people stopped fearing what I might become."
"They feared what I could see."
Eon's expression grew distant.
"Mother told Father she could still save me."
"That I was sick."
"That I could be fixed."
Qaritas's voice was barely audible.
"And he let her?"
Eon's answer was simple.
"He believed hope."
Another long silence.
"After that..."
"...everything became easier."
Not for Eon.
For Hex.
Qaritas finally understood.
This...
Wasn't the story of how the First Evil was born.
It was the story of how a frightened child was abandoned.
"No one protected me."
The words were almost gentle.
"So I decided..."
"...every child after me would have someone."
His eyes never left Xheavend.
"I can feel evil."
"I felt what Yzer wanted."
The warmth left his voice.
"I would erase this universe..."
"...to stop him."
The certainty in those words was absolute.
Not anger.
Not rage.
A promise.
The music continued quietly beyond the bonfire.
Children still laughed somewhere in the distance.
Xheavend had somehow convinced three older boys that flower crowns made them "look more heroic."
None of them argued.
Qaritas watched her for a long moment before asking the question that had been haunting him.
"...Then why didn't you?"
Eon remained silent.
"...When we arrived here."
"...Why didn't you destroy this universe?"
A long pause followed.
The wind carried the smell of roasted herbs across the plaza.
Finally...
Eon smiled.
Not happily.
Like someone remembering a promise made so long ago that even time had nearly forgotten it.
"When I was a thousand years old..."
"I finally understood."
Qaritas waited.
Eon's eyes never left Xheavend.
"That..."
"...was when we first met."
Qaritas frowned.
"...Me?"
"You."
"You told me something I have never forgotten."
Eon's voice became almost nostalgic.
"You introduced yourself as the God of Nothing."
"You laughed and said..."
'In every history... no one will remember my name.'
"You believed your future had already been erased."
"But you still smiled."
Qaritas couldn't imagine saying something like that.
"I didn't believe you."
"You shouldn't have."
A small laugh escaped Eon.
"But then..."
"...you became my most trusted advisor."
"You taught me that history wasn't something to obey."
"It was something to protect."
"You explained why this universe mattered."
"Not because of kingdoms."
"Not because of gods."
"But because..."
"...this universe makes you."
Qaritas stared.
"I don't understand."
"You will."
Eon continued quietly.
"You told me Father's future."
"That one day..."
"...Hrolyn would rip my heart from my body."
Qaritas's breath caught.
"He forged it into a weapon."
"A weapon bound by a single word."
Eon's voice became barely audible.
"Aun'darion."
Silence settled between them.
"You also told me something impossible."
"That I did not have to destroy the universes."
"I only had to make everyone believe I had."
Qaritas frowned.
"...Why?"
"Because history had to remain unchanged."
"If even one person learned the truth too early..."
"...none of this would happen."
He slowly gestured around them.
"The commanders."
"Goro."
"The others."
"They are here..."
"...because they made a promise."
"A promise to you."
"And to me."
"They swore they would train you."
"So that when you finally reached the First Universe..."
"...you would already be the commander capable of leading my armies."
Qaritas stared at him.
"So this..."
He looked around Yrtana.
"...all of this..."
"...was for me?"
"No."
Eon smiled.
"It was for everyone."
He pointed toward Goro.
"He was born in the First Universe."
"But he came here because he knew where history would leave Xheavend."
Then...
Toward the little girl chasing lantern-fish through the plaza.
"If Goro wasn't here..."
"If you weren't here..."
"...she would never escape."
His voice became colder.
"She would become Yzer's pet."
"She would never kill him."
"The future she creates would never exist."
Qaritas looked at the laughing little girl.
His stomach tightened.
Eon continued.
"This city creates the kind of people who cannot exist anywhere else."
"I learned that from the Book you're carrying."
His eyes met Qaritas's.
"If you and Xheavend never appear in this universe..."
"...every universe after this one disappears."
Qaritas's face drained of color.
"...What?"
"Only the First Universe remains."
"The Second never survives."
"The Third never fulfills its purpose."
"The worlds beyond it are never born."
"The future collapses."
"The rebellion never happens."
"I lose."
The words were spoken with absolute certainty.
"No Xheavend..."
"...no death of Yzer."
"No Qaritas..."
"...no commander capable of standing beside me."
"No First Division."
"No victory."
He looked toward the thousands of lights filling Yrtana.
"This universe is not one world among two thousand."
"It is the foundation beneath all of them."
"If it disappears..."
"...history dies."
Qaritas's hands trembled.
"...Then..."
"...my life..."
Eon finally looked directly at him.
"Means more than anyone realizes."
"You believe you're destined to become the Ascendant of the Void."
"The God of Nothing."
"You are."
A gentle smile crossed his face.
"But you are so much more."
"You become the man feared by the Fragments."
"The Ascendants."
"The beings that believe themselves untouchable."
"They do not fear your power."
"They fear what you become."
Qaritas whispered,
"...Why?"
Eon's smile grew softer.
"Because..."
"Everyone looked at me..."
"...and saw only evil."
A long silence followed.
Then—
"You were the first person..."
"...to reach out your hand."
"...toward me."
Neither of them spoke for several moments.
Finally...
Eon looked back toward the children.
Very quietly...
"I poisoned Mother."
The world seemed to stop.
Qaritas stared at him.
"...What?"
"I knew what she would become."
"I knew what she would do."
Another pause.
"I knew..."
"...what she intended to do to you before you were even conceived."
His voice never wavered.
"She wanted more children."
"She told me."
"She also told me what she would make them become."
Qaritas felt cold.
"So..."
"I poisoned her."
"Not to kill you."
His gaze drifted somewhere impossibly far away.
"When you were born..."
"...you were not yet Qaritas."
"You were only the Void."
"A mass of living darkness."
"Mindless."
"Without thought."
"Without a soul capable of choosing."
Qaritas listened without breathing.
"Father believed he destroyed the One Thousand Nine Hundred Ninety-Ninth Universe."
"He was wrong."
A faint smile.
"I awakened you."
"Not him."
Silence.
"I poisoned Mother..."
"...so she could never carry you beneath her control."
"So when you finally awakened..."
"...your first choice would belong to you."
Not Hex.
Not Hrolyn.
You.
Qaritas swallowed hard.
"...Everyone called you a monster."
Eon nodded once.
"They still do."
There was no anger.
No bitterness.
No desire to defend himself.
Only quiet acceptance.
"They saw a son who poisoned his mother."
"They never saw..."
"...the brother trying to save another brother before he was even born."
The fire crackled softly.
Someone in the distance laughed.
Children continued running through the lantern light, completely unaware that history had just changed around a single conversation.
Neither of them spoke.
Finally...
Eon turned toward Qaritas.
For the first time that night...
He looked at him.
Not at the future.
Not at Yrtana.
Not at Xheavend.
Just...
Him.
A smile appeared.
Small.
Fragile.
Almost impossible to notice.
"When I learned you survived..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"...I cried."
Qaritas froze.
Eon looked away again.
Toward the children.
"You were..."
A long pause.
"...the little brother..."
His smile trembled ever so slightly.
"...I thought I'd killed."
Silence.
Nothing else.
No explanation.
No attempt to justify himself.
Only the truth.
Qaritas stared at him.
Every terrible story.
Every lie.
Every monster the universes believed Eon to be...
Suddenly looked different.
Not because Eon had changed.
Because Qaritas finally understood.
The First Evil...
Had spent billions of years believing he'd murdered the only family he had left.
"...Brother..."
The word escaped Qaritas before he realized he'd spoken.
Eon closed his eyes.
For just a heartbeat.
"...Thank you."
Qaritas didn't know why he'd said it.
Or why Eon thanked him.
Neither of them tried to explain.
They didn't have to.
The celebration slowly surrendered to exhaustion.
One by one...
The musicians lowered their instruments.
The final notes drifted through the cavern before fading into peaceful silence.
The crystal lanterns dimmed.
Floating gently toward the streets until they resembled tiny fallen stars.
Children who had spent hours chasing lantern-fish now slept wherever exhaustion had claimed them.
One little boy snored loudly beneath a table.
His sister had somehow fallen asleep while still wearing a flower crown nearly larger than her head.
Several parents laughed quietly before carrying them home.
The hunters finally admitted defeat in their singing contest.
No winner had been declared.
Everyone agreed that was for the best.
Even the blacksmiths stopped arguing over stew.
Though one insisted—
"It still needed more pepper."
"It absolutely did not."
"You have weak taste buds."
"I have functioning taste buds."
They continued bickering as they walked away together.
Heroes embraced one another before disappearing into the quiet streets.
Tomorrow...
Training would begin.
Tonight...
They were simply family.
Near the edge of the plaza...
Little Xheavend had fallen asleep sitting upright.
Her black hair was still tangled from playing.
One crimson eye and one pink eye now hidden behind peaceful eyelids.
The flower crown had slipped crookedly across her head.
Her new four-stage weapon rested securely in her lap.
There was still a tiny smear of birthday cake on her cheek.
Goro smiled.
"...She didn't even make it home."
He carefully lifted her into his arms.
She instinctively curled closer against him without waking.
"...Goodnight, little lady."
She mumbled something completely unintelligible.
"...Mhm..."
"...Horse..."
"...No... dragon..."
Goro chuckled.
"I'll let him know."
Still asleep...
She smiled.
He adjusted the blanket someone had draped over her shoulders before quietly walking toward the streets of Yrtana.
Watching over her...
The way someone should have watched over every child.
Behind him...
Qaritas remained exactly where he'd been sitting.
Face planted firmly against the wooden table.
Surrounded by enough empty mugs to concern an army physician.
One of the older heroes poked his shoulder.
"...Is he alive?"
Another leaned closer.
"I think so."
"...Qaritas?"
No response.
"...Commander?"
Nothing.
Goro glanced back.
"...Leave him."
"He earned this."
The old soldier nodded solemnly.
"...Fair enough."
Within minutes...
The plaza emptied.
The crystal lanterns continued drifting lazily through the sleeping city.
Yrtana finally rested.
Darkness.
Not empty.
Peaceful.
Countless stars stretched endlessly in every direction.
There was no throne.
No palace.
No battlefield.
Only silence.
Qaritas slowly opened his eyes.
"...Eon?"
A familiar figure stood several steps away.
No armor.
No crown.
No impossible presence that made reality tremble.
Just...
A tired man.
Older than time.
He smiled.
Small.
Gentle.
The kind of smile reserved for family.
"Take care of her."
Qaritas blinked.
"...Xheavend?"
Eon nodded.
"Why me?"
For a long moment...
Eon didn't answer.
He simply looked out across the endless stars.
Finally—
"Because you're here."
The simplicity of the answer hurt more than anything else he had said tonight.
Another quiet moment passed.
Then Eon spoke again.
"Give her..."
His voice softened.
"...the childhood she deserves."
Qaritas looked down.
"I will."
"I know."
Eon turned away.
He began walking into the darkness.
Unhurried.
Almost peaceful.
"...Eon?"
He didn't stop.
"Where are you going?"
Still walking...
Without looking back...
"For the next ten years..."
A gentle pause.
"...you don't need me."
Qaritas took an instinctive step forward.
"What if I do?"
Eon laughed quietly.
The sound carried through the stars.
"You won't."
Another step.
"And if you forget something..."
He smiled to himself.
"...Goro will remind you."
The darkness slowly welcomed him.
His outline became softer.
Fainter.
Qaritas stood there watching.
Unable to move.
Unable to speak.
There was no dramatic farewell.
No declaration.
No explosion of light.
Only...
A man who had carried the weight of two thousand universes...
Finally allowing himself to rest.
The stars dimmed.
Darkness gently folded around him.
Until...
He was gone.
And for the first time in countless ages...
Eon slept.