"You were chosen not because you are strong, but because you are separate."
"Outside the fold. Outside the record."
"Unaffected by cosmic inertia."
"What does that mean?" Lindarion whispered.
The answer vibrated through the pool, through the chamber, through his bones:
"It means you can undo what we cannot."
The starlight suddenly surged, and a wave of sheer information crashed into him.
Images—
Galaxies collapsing into threads.
A creature vast enough to swallow stars.
A consciousness splitting into shards to escape obliteration.
A cycle looping and fracturing.
A doorway between worlds forced open—not by accident, but by will.
Nysha seized him, trying to yank him back. "Lindarion, please—!"
But he barely heard her because the light was pulsing again, urging him to understand the final truth.
"The First Devourer brought you here to finish what it could not."
"To choose the end that it failed to reach."
And then—
