The silence was not peace.
It was absence.
After the confrontation with the Thought That Never Was, the Blank Sky Pact drifted through the void that remained—a scar of space where meaning once stood. There were no stars here, no remnants of time, not even the remnants of memory. Only a slow, steady hum remained, pulsing like the breath of a dying god.
Aiden stood at the edge of it all.
His cloak, forged from the threads of severed fates, barely fluttered in the stillness. His eyes, long since blinded, saw more than ever—threads of potential, cords of collapsing dimensions, echoes of lives that had never been. Spirit Sense carved through the void, but even it trembled at the borders of what lay ahead.
