The Multiverse held its breath.
Lucius stood at the Forge's mouth, radiant in the Vessel of Becoming. Where once he had walked with inherited power, now he bore forged purpose. The storm within him had not been silenced—but harmonized.
The Dreamsmith's forge flickered, sparks drifting into the ether, each one a ripple that would seed change across time. Walter bowed deeply.
Lilith touched the Vessel's shoulder, her fingers lingering as if to confirm he was still flesh, still hers.
Alexia stood silent but close, eyes locked onto the pattern of stars shifting above.
And Luna… she grinned, but for once, said nothing.
Lucius turned to them.
"We return now," he said. "But not to rest."
Walter nodded. "The final tremor has begun."
"What tremor?" Lilith asked, stepping forward.
Walter turned to her, his eyes older than reality. "The Empress has moved. The Betrayer of the Last King. She knows what Lucius has become."
Alexia's eyes narrowed. "She will not give up her stolen crown."
