The Eye pulsed again—one vast beat, like the strike of a cosmic drum. The rift split wider, bleeding brilliance and shadow in tides that threatened to drown the horizon. The newborn realm quaked, not in weakness, but in anticipation, as though it too braced for the next movement of this trial.
The avatars surged with renewed force.
The colossus of fractured perfection struck its fists into the earth, trying to flatten the land into crystalline symmetry. Valleys buckled into triangles, rivers snapped into rigid lines, the air itself became angles.
The endless hunger thrashed, splitting into dozens of new forms, each gnawing at the stars, clawing at the silver runes, chewing at the roots of Aria's forests. Its mouths gnashed not for sustenance, but to erase the concept of fullness itself.
