At once, as though the name itself were a curse upon his very existence, the mana that had been pouring down on him vanished.
Pollux immediately leaped back and glared at Aevor with a gaze full of ferocious hatred.
Only then did he truly see the body of the God of Time.
Aevor was cast in gold and ruin.
Pale, solemn light flickered across the cracks in his gilded skin, like sunlight bleeding through broken marble. Molten veins of radiance ran through him, glowing faintly beneath the surface, like the dying remnants of a shattered star.
His hair was long.
Golden.
From his back stretched wings—vast, withered, and spectral white. Even in their decay, they shifted subtly with each breath, as though time itself stirred between their feathers.
Upon his head rose long antlers, jagged and gnarled, twisting toward the sky like the roots of an upturned world.
And then…
His eyes.
Eyes without white.
Only irises of pure gold, burning with an otherworldly beauty.
