The storm did not relent. It howled like a newborn universe desperate to define itself, threads of chaos thrashing against the pillars, rivers, and chains the Trinity had raised. Every strike was not just force—it was question, challenge, demand.
Who are you to shape me?
Fenric's silver fire spiraled higher, his gaze unflinching. Each burst of chaos that struck his pillars cracked them, but instead of breaking, the cracks filled with brighter flame, law reforged stronger with every trial. "I am order," he said, his voice resonating across the trembling horizon. "I am the spine of what will endure."
Aria's wings swept wide, emerald sparks scattering like seeds into the storm. Where chaos devoured them, forests sprouted, rivers curved, stars bloomed from the turbulence. The storm tried to erase her, yet she wove herself deeper into it with every heartbeat. "I am growth," she whispered, her tone as steady as breath. "I am the song of what will live."
