The world cracked, not from destruction—but from revision.
Time folded inward. Reality shivered. The spires of Elira no longer touched the stars, but the echoes of rewritten laws. Beneath that fractured sky, a silence deeper than death blanketed the Dominion's encampment.
And then…
He walked through it.
The Revenant King.
Once a tyrant reborn in hatred, then shattered by Darius and left to rot in a realm of forgotten code, he had returned—but changed.
His armor gleamed with corrupted divinity—veins of gold laced with obsidian scripture. Behind him trailed legions of spectral soldiers: not alive, not quite dead—Unwritten.
Darius stood at the threshold of the Grand Spire, Kaela on his left, Nyx on his right, and Celestia—dimly radiant—behind him. The four faced the one anomaly fate had failed to contain.
"You should be dust," Kaela said, her voice crackling with chaotic tension.
