There was no ground beneath his feet.
No sky above.
Only light — endless, weightless, older than time.
Kael drifted through it, unsure if he was walking, falling, or simply remembering.
Every breath shimmered. Every heartbeat rang like a bell across eternity.
The light thickened. Shapes formed. Stars bloomed from invisible seeds, spinning into vast spirals. Planets condensed from dust and song. A thousand newborn suns opened their eyes — and Kael realized, with quiet horror, that he could feel them breathing.
Each star exhaled warmth, and their breath brushed across his mind like voices in prayer.
Not words. Not thought. Instinct.
Grow.
Shine.
Endure.
He turned — or thought he did — and saw a river of fire stretching across infinity. At its heart stood the Forge Eternal, vast beyond measure, its frame built of runes older than gods. Inside it burned a single flame: not red, not gold, but the color of creation itself — every hue, every possibility, folded into one.
The same flame that lived, faintly, inside him.
The voice came again, not from the light, but through it.
"Do you see now, Seedbearer?"
Kael's voice was small against the roar of galaxies. "What… am I seeing?"
"Memory."
"The First Breath. The forging of the heavens before the Silence."
He looked down. His reflection was not his own — it was made of stars.
And behind him stood countless figures, silhouettes of light and shadow, each holding a flame in their chest.
"The others," he whispered. "The ones before me."
"Worldseeds," said the voice. "Born to dream new realms into being. To take the dying light of one cosmos and give birth to another. But they forgot. They turned their gifts to conquest."
Images flashed — seeds twisted by hunger and war. Worlds consumed by their own creators. The light dimming, cycle by cycle, until nothing remained but silence.
"You are the last," the voice said. "The final echo of the Forge. The only one who can rekindle it — or end it forever."
Kael clenched his fists. "And if I refuse?"
The stars around him trembled, as though laughing gently.
"Refusal is the first fire of creation."
The vision shifted. The Forge shuddered, its flames dimming. Darkness surged, swallowing whole galaxies like a tide. Kael felt it rush toward him — a vast hunger, endless and cold.
A shadowed hand reached out from the void.
It bore no shape, yet he knew its name.
The Voidseed. The one that had devoured the others.
Its voice scraped across the stars.
"You cannot forge light without casting shadow."
Kael stood his ground. The fire in his chest flared — not bright, but alive.
"I'm not your shadow," he said. "I'm your end."
The forge erupted.
Light and darkness collided, fracturing the vision.
When Kael opened his eyes again, he was lying on the stone floor of the mountain chamber, the forge's ember hovering above him — now the size of a sun, pulsing slow and steady.
Lyraen stood at the edge, staring in silent awe. Her voice broke the quiet.
"Kael… what did you see?"
He looked up, eyes still filled with starfire.
"Everything," he whispered. "And it's all waking up."