The echoes of Nyx's final cry still hung in the dark void like a curse unwilling to fade. Her essence, though purified, had left a scar on Darius's soul. His steps felt heavier as he returned to his throne—each one dragging the weight of his past, his dominion, and the sacrifices that tethered him to this monstrous power.
The once-pristine throne room had changed. The digital cathedral of blackened data crystals now pulsed with cracks of silver light. Celestia stood beside the throne, her armor gone, replaced with a sheer robe laced in threads of starlight. Her eyes—once proud and cold—were filled with something foreign: fear.
"You lost part of yourself in that ritual," she whispered, watching his skin flicker between man and code.
Darius slumped into the throne. "No. I gained what I needed to keep control. But I also saw the truth behind the Architect's visions... And they weren't wrong."
