Everett lay unmoving on a bed made of spinning Sanskrit characters, each letter glowing softly, humming like a sacred lullaby. He didn't twitch. Didn't dream. His soul was simply... absent.
Guruji stood over him briefly, murmuring a prayer that only the gods could hear.
Then he turned to Gloria.
"Come. There is nothing more we can do for him in here."
Reluctantly, she followed him out of the cathedral.
But when they stepped outside, the world had changed.
Gone were the shattered ruins, the black mist, and the pale sky.
Gone was the silence of a dead planet.
In their place stood a city — no, a realm — that defied all reason.
---
A Place Beyond Scale
Before them stretched a cosmic metropolis — glowing towers that reached beyond the clouds, floating walkways that twisted through dimensions, and creatures of impossible scale.
Some were smaller than fingers, flitting through the air like living sparks.
Others were taller than mountains, walking gently as if the weight of their thoughts could collapse stars.
There were humanoids with lion heads, plants that recited poetry, golems carved from time, and entities that looked like abstract emotions given flesh.
The air shimmered with language they could somehow understand — though no words were spoken.
"Guruji…" Gloria whispered, stunned. "This… isn't a planet."
> "No," he replied calmly. "This is something else entirely."
Behind them, the cathedral had transformed.
What once looked abandoned and dying was now a golden monument, surrounded by gods in meditation. Each one radiated so much power that even standing in their presence made Gloria's heart tighten.
She didn't know their names. She didn't dare guess.
But she knew one thing — they had left the mortal plane behind.
This was a realm carved from paradox and wonder.
As they wandered in awe, trying to understand where they were, a voice called to them.
Soft. Childlike.
But it pulled at their souls — seductive, compelling, irresistible.
They turned, as if moved by strings.
Above them, suspended in mid-air, floated a hanging garden, lush with vines and crystalline flowers. At the center, a swing drifted lazily.
On it sat a boy.
He looked no older than six or seven — barefoot, laughing, innocent.
But surrounding the garden were thousands of guards — beings of all shapes and sizes, yet none dared to move.
Some were tiny. Some the size of cities.
Yet all stood completely still, watching the boy, as if protecting a sleeping god.
Gloria's legs stiffened. Her instincts screamed.
But then the boy smiled — and beckoned.
"Come."
Neither guards nor fear stopped them.
The two rose into the air and gently landed on the edge of the garden.
The guards didn't move. Didn't even blink.
They stepped closer to the child.
"I am Satus," he said simply, kicking his legs on the swing. "The Manas of Fate."
The name meant nothing to Gloria or Guruji — but they felt it.
The weight behind it. The truth in it.
The way the universe seemed to bow slightly at its utterance.
Gloria straightened her back. "I'm Gloria Cheng. Swordswoman. I'm… honored, Sir Satus."
Guruji bowed with respectful grace. "Guruji Gopalan. Prophet, albeit not as insightful as you, I imagine."
Fetus giggled like any child would.
Then he pointed toward the cathedral, where Everett lay.
"That child you brought… committed a terrible sin."
Both Gloria and Guruji stiffened.
"He touched what should not be touched," Satus continued. "And now he suffers."
"What did he touch?" Gloria asked softly.
"He touched the past," Fetus replied. "But not just any past. A forbidden past. A moment that resists observation. A thread bound by ancient agreements."
He stood on the swing now, balancing with perfect ease.
"And now, he suffers the backlash of seven laws. Seven truths that reject interference. They do not like being seen. They are… waking up."
Guruji's breath caught.
"Can he be saved?"
Satus smiled — and in that smile was both warmth and cruelty.
"Anything can be saved. But first… you must understand what cursed him. You must learn this realm. This city. This truth."
He turned away, walking across the swing's chain like it was a bridge.
"You think you were on a forgotten world?" he said. "You never were."
"That cathedral… was your invitation."