Qaritas followed Goro into Deepcrest.
The serpent did not rush.
He moved through the streets like he belonged to them—and the streets knew it.
Lanternlight bent subtly as he passed. Conversations dipped, then resumed. Some mortals greeted him openly, others bowed their heads without thinking.
Qaritas walked a step behind.
Watching.
Thinking.
Are you sure we can trust him? he asked inside his mind.
When he did—
It was with a seriousness Qaritas had never felt from him before.
I would trust Goro with my life.
And with the lives of my family.
Qaritas frowned.
Even if he switched sides? he pressed. Isn't he loyal to Xheavend now?
Eon scoffed softly.
I don't know what you're talking about.
He has never switched sides.
He's too loyal. It used to annoy me.
Now I'm grateful for it.
Qaritas narrowed his eyes.
You're avoiding the question about Xheavend again.
Eon laughed.
Light.
Deflecting.
It's a secret.
And even if you knew… it wouldn't change what's coming.
Be patient, little brother.
Qaritas exhaled through his nose.
Fine.
But it wasn't fine.
Not really.
He followed behind Goro, but something inside him tightened.
After Hellbound—
after everything—
he thought they were closer.
That Eon trusted him.
That they were becoming something like—
partners.
Instead—
Eon still chose what he deserved to know.
Still decided.
Still controlled.
And Qaritas hated that more than anything.
Eon's voice slipped into his thoughts again.
Quieter this time.
I have my reasons.
You will have to trust me.
Because if we fail… the universes will be wiped out.
Qaritas stopped walking for half a step.
What do you mean wiped out?
Eon didn't hesitate this time.
I mean exactly that.
The street noise continued around them.
Normal.
Alive.
Unaware.
Someday, Eon continued, we will travel back.
Qaritas's chest tightened.
To the First Universe.
To a time before the Fragments. Before the other 1,999 universes. Before all of this.
Qaritas's voice sharpened.
Why?
Why are you doing this, Eon?
His voice rose, sharper now.
You're the villain. The Fragments are pieces of you. You admitted that. So whose side are you on?
The Ascendants? Or the Fragments?
Eon let out a quiet breath.
Have you ever considered…
His tone shifted.
Lower.
Older.
…that things are not black and white?
Qaritas clenched his jaw.
Then explain it.
Nothing.
Explain it, Eon.
The anger rose.
Sharp.
Raw.
You want me to trust you? Haven't I earned that?
His voice dropped.
"Or do you only trust versions of me you control?"
Inside his mind, chains appeared.
Not around his wrists.
Not around his throat.
Around his voice.
Qaritas felt the words die before they reached him.
Metal sealed over his mouth.
Forced. Eon spoke.
He was not angry. Not loud.
But heavy.
I had everything once.
The words came out wrong.
As if the words were—dragged out of him.
A beloved who pulled me out of the dark.
Eon stopped.
The chains around Qaritas's voice tightened, then loosened, as if even Eon had forgotten they were there.
Qaritas pushed against them.
Who?
Then Eon answered—not the question, but something worse.
Children I haven't held since the collapse of the First Universe.
Qaritas went cold.
Not afraid.
Not angry.
Wrong-footed.
Children made monsters complicated.
And Qaritas hated that.
The chains snapped tight.
Do not make me regret giving you this much.
Because I was the one who destroyed it.
Qaritas stared into the dark inside his own mind.
Destroyed it, he thought.
His voice came out colder than he expected.
"Then why should I believe anything you say?"
Eon went still.
"If you rewrote history once," Qaritas said, "how do I know you're not rewriting me?"
For the first time, Eon had no immediate answer.
And that terrified Qaritas more than denial would have.
Eon did not answer him directly.
I made a choice no Ascendant should ever have to make.
Then —
I rewrote history.
The air inside Qaritas's mind grew colder.
What the Ascendants know about me… what the Fragments believe…
A quiet, bitter edge—
…I made it believable.
Qaritas didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Couldn't.
I lost everything to protect what I loved.
Goro turned down a narrow street.
Didn't interrupt.
Didn't look back.
But he was listening.
And I have waited long enough to take it back.
The chains tightened slightly.
You will not stand in my way.
sharper—
So get stronger. Train until it kills you.
Because you are not ready.
Something cold slipped into Eon's voice.
The beings in the First Universe will rip you apart.
You think Ecayrous is evil?
A hollow sound.
You have no idea what evil is.
The chains vanished.
Completely.
Tomorrow, we go to the Fragment meeting.
Invited… or not.
Qaritas didn't respond.
His throat worked once, but no sound came.
For the first time, Eon had not sounded like a monster.
He had sounded like a man standing over a grave he dug himself.
Ahead of him—
Goro slowed. Just slightly.
No turning back.
But aware.
Deepcrest did what living cities always did after gods confessed sins.
It kept breathing.
Voices rose.
"Master Goro—are you reopening the school?"
"Will you teach again?"
"Please—my son—he's ready—"
Goro's voice answered calmly.
"I might."
"Though it may not be me teaching."
Qaritas blinked.
"You had students?"
Goro gave a faint, amused exhale.
"It was an order from the little lady."
Xheavend.
"She wanted mortals to defend themselves. Against the Forsaken. Against the Djallra."
A small pause.
"What better teacher than a subordinate of Eon?"
Qaritas glanced at him.
"Are they strong?"
Goro's eyes flicked once.
Brief.
Sharp.
"They are not weak."
His eyes flicked away.
"Most reside in the Third Universe now. Some are Ascendants."
That landed.
"They will be… pleased," Goro added, "to travel again."
"If we are to be useful… we should not waste time waiting."
He turned.
Down an alley that should not have existed.
Qaritas knew this part of Deepcrest.
There had been a wall.
A vendor.
Crates.
Now—
there was an alley.
Narrow.
Too narrow.
The walls leaned inward like they were listening.
The lantern light stopped at the entrance.
Like it refused to follow.
Qaritas hesitated.
Goro didn't.
So he followed.
The deeper they went—
the quieter it became.
It wasn't just silence.
But something much worse.
Sound existed.
But didn't carry.
Their footsteps didn't echo.
Their breathing didn't linger.
Even movement felt… swallowed.
Qaritas glanced back.
The entrance was gone.
Not hidden.
Gone.
The walls pulsed faintly.
Like something beneath them was breathing.
Slow.
Patient.
Goro stopped.
Reached into his waistcoat.
And pulled out a watch.
Old.
Worn.
Ordinary—
"Do not let it choose for you," Goro said.
Qaritas frowned.
"What happens if it does?"
Goro's fingers tightened slightly around the chain.
"Then you arrive where you are needed."
A pause.
"Not where you survive."
until it opened.
Qaritas's chest tightened.
No hands.
No time.
Only numbers.
Layered.
Spiraling.
1… 2… 3…
…97… 213… 600… 1,999… 2,000…
All visible.
All shifting.
Rearranging.
Choosing.
At the center—
an eye.
Closed.
For a second—
the numbers rearranged into something that looked like his name.
Then it broke apart.
"Don't focus on the numbers," Goro said.
"Focus on the moment."
Qaritas stared.
The eye opened.
Reality inverted.
He was pulled in every direction at once.
Color exploded around him—
blues, greens, violet, pink—
alive.
Breathing.
Voices brushed against him—
fear, laughter, death, birth—
not his.
Everyone's.
"Don't fight it."
Goro's voice anchored him.
Shapes moved in the color.
Half-formed.
Watching.
One came close.
Too close.
No face.
But it recognized something.
Eon went still.
The shape leaned in—
snapped away.
Gone.
Everything collapsed.
Stillness.
Stars.
Endless.
Cold.
Watching.
"Welcome," Goro said.
"To the Third Universe."
He changed.
Expanded.
Eyes opening.
Too many.
"This is Vharvaka."
Qaritas swallowed.
The universe was watching him back.
Judging.
Deciding.