A silence, deep and vast, hung in the air like a pause between breaths. And then, Oryzarakh returned.
His form- black gold, towering, monolithic- emerged from the depths of Folded space with terrifying finality. Pressure surged with his arrival, reality groaning in reverence.
"Everything is ready," he stated, each word dropping like hammers of existence.
Moiraine turned toward him, her golden white robe flowing like liquid paradox. Her gaze, ancient and piercing, returned to Noah.
"We may be at the precipice of something potentially grand," she said, solemnly. "I will verify it one last time. And for the chains, consider that debt owed. Just once more, let me see your Paradox."
She raised her hand, calm and graceful, her fingertips igniting with a white-gold glow. Paradox unfurled like a symphony.
Noah watched silently.
He lifted his own hand. It too was painted with the hues of Paradox- the Living True Source swirling like a patient serpent.
