The chamber beneath the Tree of Realms had been untouched for millennia. Ethan stood at the threshold, the vines parting slowly at his presence, guided by the energy pulsing from the Seed embedded in his chest.
The others waited behind him—Lyra, Mira, Tavren—all of them alert and ready, though none of them dared to step forward first. The God of Creation had left this place hidden for a reason. And now, Time itself had led Ethan here.
The air grew colder as they descended. Unlike the warm heart of the tree above, this passage was cut from obsidian and starlight. The walls shimmered with runes that bent and moved with every step. There was no dust, no decay—this place defied age.
"Avalon has more secrets than it does seasons," Tavren muttered under his breath.
Ethan paused at a door carved with three sigils: past, present, and possibility.
He placed his palm on the center rune.
The door dissolved like mist.
They entered a cavern shaped like an inverted dome. At its center, a giant table made of celestial glass floated several feet above the floor. Hovering above it was a sphere, rotating slowly, an ethereal globe of intertwined threads, pulsing with light.
"The Map of Time," Mira whispered, awestruck. "The Architect's last creation."
Ethan stepped forward. As he approached, the threads in the sphere began to stretch outward—projecting glowing paths in the air, crisscrossing, weaving around each other like rivers of starlight. Each strand was a timeline. Some showed Avalon as a thriving empire.
Others… burning under twin eclipses. Still others flickered out entirely. Ethan reached out and touched one thread. In an instant, he was pulled into the vision. Ashen lay in ruins. The villagers slaughtered.
The noble's banners replaced by symbols of the Serpent Court. In the heart of the village square, a pyre burned high on it, the Seed.
Above it all stood a figure cloaked in black flame. Ethan recognized him. Vaelen.
But Vaelen wasn't alone. Standing beside him—was Ethan.
Not as he was, but twisted, hollow-eyed. A version of him who had chosen the wrong path. A king of ashes. Ethan gasped and stumbled back, severing the vision. The map glowed brighter.
Suddenly, the Seed pulsed in his chest, resonating with something deep beneath the sphere. A new thread shimmered into view barely visible. Weak. Flickering. It wasn't connected to any of the major strands.
"A hidden future," Mira breathed. "One that hasn't solidified."
Ethan reached for it and the moment his fingers brushed it, the entire room shuddered.
The sphere split open. Inside it was a crystal, floating silently. As Ethan reached for it, a voice rang out—not from the room, but from everywhere and nowhere all at once:
"You are not ready."
The walls around them trembled. Runes flashed red. The sphere cracked. And from the darkness above… something descended. A figure, skeletal and robed in shadows, eyes burning like dying suns.
It spoke a single word:
"Thief."