Beyond the reach of light and the grasp of shadow, a palace floated suspended in the endless void. It was no ordinary structure, but a monument to existence itself—its floors woven from constellations, each step a fragment of dying stars, pillars carved from shards of ancient cosmic remnants. The horizon stretched infinitely in every direction, without walls or boundaries. Here, even the concept of time seemed irrelevant; every breath echoed with the weight of creation.
At the center of this impossible palace stood seven thrones, arranged in a perfect circle. Each throne pulsed with an essence unique to its occupant, a silent testament to power that predated worlds. These were the Sovereigns—not gods, but beings older than thought, older than matter, whose presence bent reality itself.
The first blazed like molten sunlight, cracks of white-hot energy racing across his form. Beside him, frost and crystal formed a figure so sharp and transparent that merely looking at her seemed to chill the air around you. Another unfurled golden wings that reflected an endless spectrum of light, warmth radiating through the void.
Across the circle lingered a shadow, without form, edges devouring the very light nearby. Beside it, a mountain of stone and molten veins exuded quiet strength, immovable and patient. A gentle aura of floating petals surrounded another, whispering faintly with the fragrance of lost worlds. And finally, shrouded in veils of golden mist, countless eyes flickered across the void, seeing every moment that had been, every moment yet to come.
No words were spoken. Thought alone moved between them, rippling like a tide across the chamber.
> "The balance quivers," said the frost, her tone as cold and precise as frozen time.
"It shifts… the Unknown returns," whispered shadow, each syllable echoing like thunder across an empty grave.
"It feeds upon worlds unguarded," Radiant added, her wings dimming reluctantly.
"Then Earth shall fall," rumbled the flame-born Sovereign. "Mortals are weak."
A hush fell, vast and suffocating.
> "Weakness is not failure," murmured the petals. "Even seeds buried in death may bloom again."
"Another hunt? After the last, half of creation still bleeds," thundered iron, voice like rolling mountains.
"Then let them fight," flame leaned forward, his molten form cracking the floor beneath.
"They cannot succeed," frost replied, chilling petals and stars alike. "They lack the essence."
The veiled Sovereign shifted. His countless eyes turned toward a distant blue sphere, spinning quietly in darkness—Earth.
> "Perhaps… they only lack the chance."
Silence followed, broken only by the subtle pulse of creation.
> "Let it be written," Radiant finally said. "We shall open the path once more. Let their youth step into the cultivation realm."
"And if they fail?" whispered shadow, cold as void itself.
"Then let them vanish, as all failures do."
From the center of the hall, a tear of light descended—a seed of divine energy, shimmering with infinite potential. It pierced the void, falling toward Earth.
Far below, billions of humans slept unaware. Leaders, kings, and prime ministers held secret meetings in hidden chambers, discussing rising anomalies and the subtle stirrings of unknown power. They sensed the coming change but understood little.
In another unseen plane, an entity observed silently. Its designation blinked in coded form: [ZT10785]. The operative watched over the seed, its purpose bound to ensure the journey began as intended.
The sky above Earth shimmered, barely noticeable, yet enough to stir the first whispers of destiny. Somewhere, a life that would soon bear the weight of a world slept, oblivious to the monumental decision above.
And in the void, the Sovereigns leaned back, their collective presence radiating judgment and patience, the universe itself holding its breath for what was to come.
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