The air inside the Primordial Void was different now. Where once there had been silence and hunger, there was now something else: resonance. The kind of soundless hum that stretched beyond language, as though reality itself was trying to recalibrate around Lucien's existence.
Veythar rose slowly, wings folding, eyes like dying suns fixed on the man who had become something more than flesh.
"You bear it," the wyrm rumbled. "The union that should not be. Tell me, Lucien Dreamveil… do you understand what you now hold?"
Lucien turned his hand over, pale fingers curling as inevitability rippled outward, bending the void like ripples in a pond. His smirk never faded.
"Dominion. Over everything. Isn't that the short version?"
The wyrm's growl carried both amusement and awe. "Crude, but not wrong. The moment you touched the roots, the Primordial Void recognized you as its sovereign. You are not merely master of a power. You are its axis."
Lucien tilted his head. "Then tell me, dragon. What exactly does that mean?"
The wyrm's voice grew deeper, as if drawing from memories older than the stars.
"The Primordial Void is not emptiness. It is the canvas. It is existence before distinction. Where is and is not are one. To rule it is to rule duality itself — potential and actuality, creation and annihilation, entropy and order. Space, time, causality, even abstract forces like will and fate — all spring from here."
He stepped closer to the colossal trunk of the Tree, laying a claw against its surface reverently.
"This tree is called Ydris Solmare. The Pillar of All. Born at the first instant of tension between becoming and unbecoming. It grew roots into the Primordial Void and branches into the sea of creation. Its trunk binds them together."
Lucien's silver eyes gleamed faintly. "And The White?"
The wyrm's tone lowered.
"The White was once Ydris' shadow. A balancing reflection, meant to reclaim what the Tree gave. But it… fractured. The hunger grew. It sought not balance, but endless reclamation. That was when Ydris bled. From its wound came you."
For the first time, Lucien's smirk softened. He understood now: he wasn't a random anomaly. He was the inevitability that had risen from the Tree's wound, a counterweight in flesh.
Lucien folded his arms, his aura stretching lazily outward, bending even the dragon's ancient body to slight discomfort. "So. The Primordial Void — mine. Ydris Solmare — mine. The White — already me. That makes me the sole arbiter of…"
Veythar completed the thought.
"Existence and nonexistence. Dualities. Potentiality and actuality. Entropy and order. Space and time. Abstract forces. Transcendence itself. In the Primordial Void… there is no law higher than you."
Lucien chuckled, voice cutting sharp as a blade. "As it should be."
The wyrm's head lowered, but its eyes still burned with reverence. "And with this dominion, you should know what you now hold up. The Nine Realms of Ydris Solmare."
At his words, the Tree pulsed, and visions unfolded before Lucien's eyes. Nine great boughs, each carrying entire planes of being:
Aetherion — Realm of mortals, flesh, and rising stories. Veyraxis — Realm of spirits, where thought and will take form.
Drakensoul — Realm of beasts and primal instinct, where power is survival. Netheris — Realm of shadow, death, and what lies beyond life.
Luminara — Realm of gods, luminous and burning. Krythos — Realm of frozen fate, where destiny is etched in crystalline law.
Elythria — Realm of dream, of illusions and half-born possibilities. Oblivara — Realm of voidspawn, where the White once fed unchecked.
Astralis — Realm of transcendence, where only the strongest may step beyond realms entirely.
Each realm pulsed with the Tree's life, bound together through its trunk, its roots dipping into the Primordial Void.
Veythar's voice rumbled, the weight of myth in his tone.
"When Ydris was whole — when The White was still balance — the realms flourished without fracture. When The White hungered, imbalance was born. Now, with you, for the first time since the beginning, Root and White are one again. That is why the Tree did not reject you. It was waiting."
Lucien's smirk returned, sharper than before. "So inevitability wasn't just my title. It was my purpose."
The void bent further, as if agreeing. The dragon bowed his massive head.
"You are no longer an exception, Lucien Dreamveil. You are the axis upon which all inevitability turns."