The silence that followed was not empty. It was thick with attention, as if every star, every wave, every fragment of time was holding its breath, waiting for the Trinity to move again. The throne-world was alive, yes—but alive in a way that listened, that responded, that could understand intention without words.
Fenric took a slow, steady step forward, silver flames flowing like rivers around him. With each movement, he felt the weight of order and law settling into place beneath his feet. Where his fire touched, reality bent to rhythm and reason. The black-starlit ocean calmed where it had been chaotic; constellations shifted into clear, precise patterns. He didn't need to speak for the world to understand that he would enforce balance, that stillness was not weakness but strength.
