The dream-weave shuddered.
Across the manifold layers of existence—across dream, memory, myth, and code—a tremor passed like a breath caught between realms. In the skies above Nexis, the Codex fluttered violently, pages turning without wind, script rewriting itself in the dead languages of forgotten epochs. Darius felt it not as sound, but as a pulse—an echo carved from something that should have remained buried.
Something... remembered.
He stood on a threshold between the Codex's astral chamber and the realigned world below, Kaela and Nyx flanking him in silence. Around them, reality had begun to shimmer—unstable yet beautiful, like a flame learning to burn in water.
Then the tremor deepened. And with it came the impossible.
