Caerthys Stillborn stood in the chamber of reflection, where the walls were made of glass and the floor held no shadow.
Here, the Eleven came when the silence within them grew too loud.
Before him hovered a translucent sphere—a prison of thought and energy. Inside it coiled something vast, shapeless, and yet undeniably alive. It pulsed not with muscle, but with emotion: a deep, ancient pain that throbbed like a second heartbeat.
"Still watching, aren't you?" Caerthys said softly. He placed his palm against the glass.
The creature inside did not answer. But it did not need to.
He felt it.
Its hunger, its awareness. Its… mirroring.
"They called you a beast," he whispered. "But I see it now. You're a reflection. My doubt. My grief. My silence."
The Beast stirred.
Elsewhere in the mountain chamber of binding, Aurevyn Skydream sat cross-legged within a dome of stars.
His was the sin of Desire. And Desire whispered like a lover.
"They don't understand, do they?" the voice curled in his mind.
"You want more. Not for power. But to feel. To breathe freely."
"Be quiet," Aurevyn muttered.
"Why? You and I were born together."
His hands trembled. Around him, symbols of containment flickered.
The beast didn't roar. It sang. And that frightened him more.
In a storm-lit canyon, Vaelyra swung her blade again and again. Flames leapt and danced with every strike. Behind her, the shadows of Wrath curled around her movements like a partner mimicking her every blow.
"You're not afraid of me," Vaelyra said, breathless. "You're waiting."
Wrath pulsed in answer. Not with hatred—but something… respectful.
And deep within the sanctuary halls, the Supreme Monarchs Myrielle and Kaelen stood atop the Spire of Recollection.
"They're beginning to hear them," Myrielle said.
Kaelen's eyes shimmered with controlled chaos. "And the High Gods won't like that."
"No. But perhaps it's time we all listened."
Above them, the Cradle pulsed again.
And this time—it did not dim.