The sky cracked.
Not from thunder, nor from any mortal upheaval—but from the weight of divine desperation. Stars halted mid-orbit, flickering like dying embers. Above Elira, the celestial constellations rearranged themselves into a circle of judgment—twelve burning thrones of light, casting rays down into the mortal plane.
The Celestial Court had returned.
For the first time since the Age of Origin, the old gods reconvened—not in reverence, but in terror. Darius, fused with the remnants of the Void Entity and wielding unstable narrative flame, had begun undoing the sacred barriers between realms. Order was collapsing. Reality was being rewritten. The gods had no choice.
"He will answer," intoned the All-Scribe, his voice made of ink and star-etched memory.
"He will kneel," whispered the Voice of Twelve, a being of shared consciousness.
"Or he will be unwritten."
[The Celestial Arena – Antechamber of Judgment]
Darius arrived without fanfare.
