The world had stopped breathing. Mountains floated like islands above oceans of fractured light. The sky bled colors that did not belong to any spectrum, while time itself ticked in reverse and forward at once.The Fourth Toll had rung, and the laws that held existence together had come undone. Somewhere beyond the broken horizon, the Third Sun had vanished. And in its wake… silence.Until the radios began to scream. Inside the Global Defense Command bunker beneath the ruins of Geneva, screens flickered with static and ghostly transmissions.General Richter slammed his fist on the table. “Status! Someone tell me what in God’s name that flash was!”Technicians scrambled, their voices overlapping.Tech One: “It’s everywhere, sir! The satellites can’t get a fix, space itself is… folding!”Tech Two: “Every system’s gone dark! Communications, navigation, dead!”Tech Three: “Sir, you might want to see this…”The holographic map rippled, then screamed. Across the continents, black rings had

The wind carried no sound. Azura stirred in a field of silver grass, the blades whispering without voices. The sky above her glowed a pale green, where stars pulsed like living hearts.She blinked against the brightness, her breath shallow, her thoughts fractured.The last thing she remembered was Kael’s hand, warm, shaking, as he tore the Bell from his chest. The light had consumed everything after that, swallowing the world, the void, and her.Now there was only this, silence. Her body ached, but the pain felt distant, unreal. She touched her skin and felt warmth, blood, heartbeat. Alive. Somehow.Around her, the horizon shimmered. Mountains floated like clouds, and rivers ran upward into the sky. The air tasted new, freshly made, as though the world had just been written and the ink had not yet dried.She whispered into the stillness. “Kael…”No answer. She rose slowly, each movement heavy with disbelief. The ground beneath her shifted, adapting to her steps.Wherever she walked, t

When the light died, the world was new again. Azura woke in darkness, the kind that shimmered faintly, like the breath before dawn.Her heartbeat echoed in her skull, steady, human. The ground beneath her pulsed like skin. She sat up slowly, unsure if she was alive, dreaming, or both.There was no sky. Only a ceiling of glass that reflected her face a thousand times over, each reflection slightly different, each pair of eyes carrying a different memory. She whispered, “Kael…”The name scattered across the mirrors like ripples, reverberating back at her in a dozen voices, some angry, some afraid, one laughing softly.Then the mirrors cracked. A figure fell through them like a stone through still water, landing hard at her feet. He groaned, rolling onto his side. For an instant, her breath stopped. Kael.He looked younger, his armor gone, his chest bare where the Bell once was. But the scar of it remained, a spiral burned into his skin, faintly glowing as if something beneath still beat

The desert was gone. Azura awoke in a forest of glass. Trees rose like crystal veins, their branches humming with faint resonance.Each leaf shimmered with symbols she didn’t understand, letters made of light, forming and dissolving before she could read them.The air carried the scent of ozone and something older, something like memory turned to rain. She pushed herself upright, disoriented.The last thing she remembered was Kael’s body breaking apart into light, his final words echoing through her chest like a wound that never stopped bleeding. Tell them I was human.She stood slowly, every nerve alive with the hum of the new world. Beneath her boots, the soil pulsed, slow, warm, rhythmic.A heartbeat. She crouched, pressing her palm to the ground. The pulse matched her own. Her voice trembled. “Kael?”The earth responded. A ripple spread outward from her touch. The crystal trees swayed, their leaves ringing like distant bells.The sound gathered into a low whisper that wasn’t sound

The voice came again, small and unsure. “Mother?”The world froze around her. The air itself seemed to pause, waiting for her answer. Azura’s breath caught in her throat.She turned toward the horizon, where the newborn sun bled soft gold through the mist. The word had not been a hallucination. It had come from somewhere real, alive.The rivers shimmered. The trees of glass rippled like reflections in disturbed water. From within the light, a shape began to form, a silhouette of a child walking across the surface of the air.Each step left trails of light that blossomed into flowers of flame. The child looked no more than ten, their hair pale as morning frost, eyes gleaming the same shade of green as the Seed that now lived in Azura’s chest.Azura whispered, “Oh gods…”The child smiled, innocent, curious. “You’re her.”Her voice shook. “Who are you?”“I’m the song you sang.”Azura stumbled back a step. “That’s impossible.”The child tilted their head, thoughtful. “You made me when you