He couldn't be.
Syl'thessara, the Betrayer, his own Ancestor, stared toward him in disbelief that made her perfect features crack like a masterpiece discovering it could feel pain.
Her constellation eyes cycled through emotions too complex for simple naming…shock, recognition, hope, despair, all bleeding into each other like watercolors in rain.
"You truly are..." she began, her voice barely a whisper across the void.
"The current Adrastia Emperor King?" Achilles finished for her, his stellar form maintaining perfect stillness that somehow conveyed more motion than any gesture could. "Yes. The Last. The Ninth. Though…that title grows increasingly inaccurate."
She drifted closer, not quite approaching but no longer maintaining safe distance.
"How? How did you know of me? How are you emanating waves of a…Nar'Thyss? You shouldn't be... this."
