The world before the Unraveling was a symphony of chaos. An Axiom, a being who could whisper to the source code of reality, was not a myth but a periodic, catastrophic event. Their births were seismic shifts in the Weave, their deaths, the collapse of entire epochs.
I am the last echo of the one they called Kael, the Final Axiom. I was not born to rule, but to mend. I saw the beauty in the wild, untamed Weave—the infinite possibilities. But the lesser Threads, the Matter-Weavers and Space-Spinners, saw only the danger. They feared what they could not control. And so, they created him: Vorlag. Not born, but forged in a lab, an artificial conduit designed to impose a single, static order upon the infinite.
Our final battle was not fought with fists, but with foundational truths. He sought to stitch the Weave into a perfect, immutable tapestry. I fought for its right to be fluid, to be free. I was the stronger. I could have erased him. But destruction was his path, not mine. So, I did not break him. I bound him. I wove his essence into the very fabric of the prison he wished to create—a perfect, static loop at the heart of the Weave, where he would forever experience the stasis he craved.
But the cost was my existence. To cage a being of such power, I had to spend my own. My consciousness is fading, my code dissolving back into the background hum of the universe. But I have cast one final, desperate edit. A seed. A new Axiom, born not in a storm of power, but in silence. He will be hidden, his nature latent, until the world is ready. Or until Vorlag's followers, the new Chronos Guard who pervert my old enemy's desire for order into a creed of tyranny, find him.
I do not know if this new Scion will be our salvation or our final end. I can only hope. The story is his to write now. May his first edit be a gentle one.