The chamber was cloaked in half-light, a place where eyes unseen traced every movement, every whispered thought. The Watcher sat perched upon the rim of oblivion — neither fully part of the world nor apart from it, a specter woven into the fabric of forgotten time.
From this vantage, Kaelith's desperate search, Ashardio's furious descent, and the fragile threads of betrayal all shimmered like flickering flames in a vast darkness. The Watcher's gaze pierced through memory and shadow, measuring the fractures that threatened to rend the Codex apart.
A smile curved thin and unreadable. "So, the children of rebellion and ruin walk their paths, blind to the deeper game."
Fingers brushed against an ancient relic — a shard of the original Architects' design, humming faintly with suppressed power. It was said to hold the balance between creation and decay, a fulcrum upon which destiny teetered.
The Watcher's voice was barely a breath, yet it echoed through the void.
"Let them chase the echoes and dance with ghosts. The true design remains… unseen."
Outside the walls of time, a distant pulse throbbed — a slow, relentless beat that pulled at the roots of all things. The Watcher leaned forward, eyes alight with cold fire.
"They do not yet know. But soon… soon, the final fracture will come."