Ashborn stood barefoot, his feet planted on ground that once wept blood from a slain reality.
Around him stood his elder kin. Seraphira, Dravion, Nyxa, and Kyther, each exuding power dense enough to tilt reality.
"This time, you don't get to watch from the side," Kyther smirked, cracking his knuckles. "You are the warm-up."
"Mother said no fatal strikes," Seraphira added gently, though the gold-white flame on her fingertips pulsed like judgment itself.
"But she didn't say anything about the Obliteration of will," Nyxa whispered, her voice traveling like silk over razors.
"Let's see what his Genesis Thread can do," rumbled Dravion, lifting a black-forged hammer inscribed with ancient Titan script.
Ashborn closed his eyes.
He inhaled.
The Genesis Thread inside him pulsed not refined, not controlled, but alive. Wild. It weaved itself into his elemental Affinities like feral serpents learning to sing. Fragments of Oblivion Glyphs carved themselves into his arms, glowing faintly.
A whisper crossed his lips.
"Pulse Weaving Mode... Engage."
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『Seraphira Lionheart - The Warden of Lightgraves, Mistress of the Ancestral Choir』
Seraphira descended from a dais of liquid starlight, her six translucent wings unfurling like dawn's first rays. Each feather was etched with glowing sigils that pulsed in time to an unseen heartbeat. Her eyes, two molten suns of compassion and authority, settled on Ashborn. Around her ankles, ghostly forms of fallen heroes glimmered Lightgraves, the spirits of ancestors waiting for their mistress's call.
She spoke, voice rippling like coruscating chime-metal:
"Brother, let us see how well your thread holds against the choir of ages."
Ashborn dipped into a low crouch. From his chest, a faint silver filament, his Genesis Thread sprang to life, wrapping around his arms and weaving outward in swirling loops. It glowed with a thousand colors, each hue representing an elemental affinity, Wind, Water, Earth, Fire, Light, and Shadow all in embryonic harmony.
With a graceful gesture, Seraphira raised her arms. The courtyard's statues flickered to life, their starlit tears falling to coalesce into shimmering pools at Ashborn's feet. These were Grave Pools, the repositories of Ancestral power. She began to sing a haunting, multilayered chorus that cut through reality itself. Each note formed a hollow rune in the air, a symbol of ancient sacrifice and exaltations.
The sky shimmered as Seraphira danced in with celestial speed, her six wings leaving trails of harmonic light.
"Judgment Glaive: Lightfold Execution!"
Her weapon split into dozens of spectral versions, each striking in different time signatures. Ashborn's eyes narrowed, his threads whipped up like shields, forming Thread Glyphs in front of his heart and limbs.
Each blow echoed against the Genesis Constructs, shattering them one by one until ashborn gritted his teeth and bit into his palm, forcing Demonic Blood Trigger.
"Threadburn" Wrath Pulse!"
An explosion of violet-black flames surged from him, cracking the air and canceling Seraphira's final strike. He backflipped into the air, twisting the Genesis Thread beneath him to ride his constructs, using them as sky-walking platforms.
Ashborn wove his thread rapidly, channeling the water Affinity to shape a transparent barrier that rippled around him, deflecting shards of Ancestral light. Then, focusing his Oblivion Glyphs, he inscribed in mid-air a circular seal of erasure beneath his feet, attempting to disrupt the pooling of his feet, the glyphs flared in violet-black, and several specters dissolved into motes of ash. Seraphira's gaze flickered, this was the faintest crack in her seamless choir.
She pivoted, releasing a wave of holy fire, a torrential flame suffused with angelic warmth. The fire spiraled around Ashborn in a tornado of gold and white. He riposted by channeling draconic breath through his thread an amberstorm of molten ember-gold that swirled into Seraphira's flame. Their powers collided in a conflagration that ripped the ground asunder, a shockwave toppling columns and scattering spectral Legionnaires.
Seraphira, unshaken, lifted a hand and summoned a pillar of light from the heavens. It hammered into the embers, quenching them with a purified blow. She descended, landing softly on three interlocking runic circles -Santus Triad- that glowed with righteous energy. Their combined light sealed Ashborn's Emberstorm, wrapping him in a cage of white-hot flame.
Ashborn forced a grin, channeling demonic wrath through his thread. His aura flared emerald-black; shadows spilled from his form to twist around the cage's edges. With a guttural chant -Soulmancy Incantations- he summoned the Wraith of a dying star-sire. The wraith's howling presence tore at the Sanctus Triad's edges, bending its geometry. By weaving his thread into the star-sire's core Ashborn converted its remnants into a pulse of pure extinction, shattering the pillar and dispelling Seraphira's hold.
The ground was purified beneath her feet. Ashborn almost collapsed from sheer reverence. His Genesis Thread convulsed, angelic code overwhelmed its chaos for a moment.
"You've done well, little brother," she said softly. "Now let's see if your flame survives eternity's light."
She raised her hand.
"Ancestral Choir - Voice of the Seventh Veil."
A beam of light descended not heat, not energy, but Law.
Ashborn moved. Barely.
His Genesis Thread flickered erratically. He couldn't match her elegance, but he could subvert it.
"Oblivion's Glyph: Chaos Echo."
"Draconic Recoil: Storm Wing!"
"Demonic Wrath - Burst Surge."
--
The air cracked. He blasted forward their blows clashed mid-air. Her halo deflected his fire. His Glyphs disrupted her chants.
For every strike she landed, Ashborn redirected its aftershock using the living Genesis Thread, a reflexive adaptation.
Ashborn leaped, fists flaming, glyphs carved on his back like tattoos, Seraphira floated, wings glowing, smile divine, palm outstretched and they collided in a Cataclysm of divine brightness and chaotic fire.
Seraphira's wings recoiled, her expression both sorrowful and proud. "Well fought, brother. You wield forbidden potential." With a final note of her choir, the spirits of the Lightgraves receded into the statues, and the arena's light dimmed concluding the first exchange.
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『Dravion Lionheart - The Forgemind』
• Heir of Titanbone and Infernal Starsmith of the Core Crucible
A thunderous echo heralded Dravion's entry. His hulking form emerged from a ring of molten iron, his obsidian skin veined with magma-light. In his right hand, he carried the Core Crucible Hammer, a warforge maul made from a fragment of a collapsed star. Sparks rained from its head, each spark a seed of creation-in-destruction.
Dravion's booming voice rolled like volcanic thunder:
"Ashborn, little brother, show me if your thread can forge as strongly as flame and steel!"
Dravion stomped forward, each step quaking the arena.
His hammer axes collided above his head with a thunderclap.
"Titanforged Descent!"
Ashborn rolled aside as molten shockwaves tore through the platform. Lava ripples across the divine floor, but Ashborn's fingers danced in front of him, sigils of Soulmancy Incantation forming in mirror spirals.
"Soultide Barrier: Wrath Conversion."
He redirected Dravion's firewave into a burning barrier and detonated it back and detonated it back as a holy firestorm laced with demonic wrath.
"Holy Wrath: Infernal Spiral!"
The clash of flames roared like angels screaming underwater. Dravion blocked with his hammers, gritting his teeth but got knocked back a dozen meters.
---
Ashborn barely had time to turn before a wave of molten air surged toward him.
Dravion walked through it like a volcanic juggernaut, hammer over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with magma-inked resolve.
"Let's see if that Genesis Thread can resist collapse-forged pressure."
He slammed the hammer into the ground. A gravity field surged up, pinning Ashborn in place.
Ashborn fell to one knee.
"Tch... heavy."
He reached inward, threads flaring.
The Genesis Thread shimmered into his palms as raw runic lines formed a symbol, a burning Glyph of Counterflow, then shattered the gravity with a pulse of Oblivion backlash.
Ashborn stood.
He inhaled deeply and extended both hands.
"Holy Fire: Vesper Halo."
A spinning halo of white-gold fire surrounded him, then shot forward like a boomerang saw blade, carving through the field. Dravion grunted, slammed his hammer again, and redirected the fire into a forged cage.
Ashborn smiled.
That was bait.
He spun, stamped the floor, and activated a Soulmancy rune beneath Dravion's feet
"Soul Rupture!"
Black-purple energy surged upward, staggering Dravion long enough for Ashborn to leap and drive a Glyph-etched elbow into his throat.
Dravion coughed. "Huh. Okay. That hurt..."
Ashborn steadied himself, the ground crackling at his heels. He wove his Genesis Thread into dense cords around his arms, feeling each fiber hum with elemental potential. He focused on Earth Affinity, causing the marble floor beneath him to surge upward into a crystallized ridge, shaping a razorwall between them.
Dravion rushed forward swinging the Core Crucible Hammer in an arc that split the air with seismic force. The ridge shattered instantly, marble shards scattering like stained-glass birds, each shard ignited in infernal sparks, crafted by Dravion's Titanbone infusions. He followed with a low, guttural roar, and from his hammer ignited a ring of lava essence that radiated outward to scorch Ashborn's barrier.
Ashborn twisted his threads into a spiraling vortex of wind and water, conjuring a temporary maelstrom that diverted the lava stream skyward. Simultaneously, he traced an Oblivion Glyph beneath Dravion's feet, an inverted rune of abrasion. The rune soared a moment later, erupting below Dravion in an anti-gravitational spike of erased matter. Dravion howled, but his Titanborn physiology allowed him to absorb the blow, converting the anti-gravity flux into a roar of pure distortion.
Seizing the moment, Ashborn launched himself upward with draconic wings of pure force, another thread-woven construct, and dove toward Dravion's flank. He scored a glancing blow with his soulmancy-infused gauntlet, siphoning a fraction of Dravion's molten energy into his Genesis Thread. The stolen energy fueled a burst of holy fire shards, which rained down upon the floor in a ring around the Forge Lord, threatening to ignite a localized inferno.
Dravion's eyes glowing iron-bright, hammered his maul into the ground, sending a magmatic pulse up throughout the courtyard stones a shock that shook the very foundations. He advanced, rising through the smoke and flame, the courtyard floor buckling beneath his weight. Ashborn landed on a higher ledge, breathless, knowing Dravion's next swing could vaporize half the platform
Instead, Dravion turned his palms upward, swirling the embers around him into a forge gale. He shaped the air into a tempered blade of pure obsidian flame, launching it at Ashborn. The blade cleaved through stone as if it were paper. Ashborn danced to the side, weaving his thread into a mesh of solid wind, a shimmering net that caught the flame-blade and ground it, transforming it into a cluster of glowing cinders.
At that instant, Ashborn invoked Demonic Wrath: a surge of dark power that overlaid his next strike with transgressive force. He thrust his hand through the net and punched Dravion's chestplate. The blow penetrated the obsidian layers, sending shockwaves through Dravion's core, momentarily disrupting his magmatic aura. Dravion staggered, roaring, but he recovered, hauling Ashborn into a bear hug forged of molten steel and gravity.
Ashborn gasped, struggling against his brother's grip. He closed his eyes and drew upon Soulmancy again: reciting a frozen requiem that extracted Dravion's rage and reflected it as a rebound pulse. The pressure eased as Dravion's rage turned inward. With a wrenching twist, Ashborn slipped free, channeling that rebound into a Genesis Pulse, a bloom of reality-bending energy that twisted the molten clusters into harmless dust.
Dravion, breath scorched and chest smoking, offered a grin that split magma. "Your thread is stronger than I believe." he lifted his hammer in salute, smoke curling from the crater at his feet. The courtyard stilled, signifying the end of that confrontation.
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『Nyxa Lionheart - The Umbramancer 』
• Born of the Hollowed Night - Keeper of the Nine Moons
A hush fell as shadow glided in on silent currents. Nyxa emerged from a sphere of void, a halo of moonlight-phased shadows enveloping her. Her singular eye, concealed by a silver veil, pulsed like a pale moonstone. Around her ankles spun nine lunar glyphs, as if the night itself bent to her Will.
Her voice was a hush, a breeze that carried the frictionless whisper of deep space
"Ashborn your light dances too brightly. Let us see how well your Genesis weaves through hollows and phantoms."
The shadows surged.
Nyxa didn't attack physically. The moment began to unravel. Ashborn blinked and then he was suddenly standing in a world of black mirrors, thousands of them reflecting alternate deaths.
"You're not fighting me, Ashborn." She whispered
"You're fighting your doubt."
Ashborn's heartbeat slowed.
The Genesis Thread vibrated unnaturally. His soul was being read. Nyxa's Umbramancy reached for his guilt, his hesitation.
A mirror cracked.
He saw himself kneeling, lost, his future stained with blood.
"You think this dream is your making?" She whispered. "The Thread feeds on your fear. Lose control, and it unravels you."
Ashborn screamed.
He invoked Draconic Howl, splitting the illusory realm.
He pulsed his Genesis Thread not gently, but violently, letting it thrash like chained chaos.
"Thread Pulse: Spiral Reversal!"
Every mirror exploded outward. The shadow realm shattered.
Nyxa stood, arms crossed, now smiling slightly.
"Not bad. You broke my 7th mirror technique. You're already better than Kyther."
"HEY--!" Shouted Kyther from the side.
--
Ashborn squared off, summoning the Void Thread. Shadows coalesced around his legs, warping light with each heartbeat. He advanced with measured steps, forming an Oblivion Glyph beneath Nyxa: A swirling spiral of anti-light that sought to sever her tether to darkness. The glyphs' runes flared charcoal-black, threatening to collapse the ambient glow Nyxa's hand flicked. Her lunar glyphs resonated, drawing energy from the dreams of passing clouds. A cascade of moonbeam daggers rained down around Ashborn, each blade translucent silver and humming with lunar entropy. Ashborn twined his threads into a mist of starlight, dodging the daggers in a dance of silhouettes and sparks.
He responded with a wind-and-fire tempest combining elemental Affinities to form a swirling vortex of flame-tipped gale. The vortex of flame-tipped gale. The vortex roared toward Nyxa, scorching the courtyard floor. But Nyxa raised her arms, and the moon phases rotated around her. She chanted an incantation in the lost tongue of Nyx's Children, calling forth a Nullshadow Veil that swallowed the vortex's light, leaving only a trail of ashen petals that drifted into nothingness.
Ashborn's breath caught. He narrowed his eyes and extended his hands flicking a burst of earth shards, tiny crystalline spikes shaped by the Genesis Thread's geometry. The shards struck the edge of Nyxa's veil, fracturing the Nullshadow momentarily. Seizing the opening, Ashborn projected a Soulmancy flame, a ghostly will-oʻ-wisp of a phoenix song toward Nyxa's heart. The flame's warmth revealed patterns on her veil: chains of runes that bound her to each lunar phase.
Nyxa's gaze flickered beneath the veil. The runes on Ashborn's phoenix flame ignited a memory within her: she had once taught him to cast his Boundary of Night. She lifted her veil, exposing eyes of liquid star-metal. She expelled the last lunar Glyph in a pulse of sorrowful grief [Umbra's Requiem] causing the courtyard's shadows to come alive as tendrils that lashed at Ashborn's aura.
Ashborn retreated, the tendrils ripping at his wind-blown barrier. He tapped into draconic arts, coiling his thread around his spine to form scaleplate armor, metallic-blue dracosilk that shimmered with energy. The scaleplate deflected the tendrils, each strike echoing like thunder on crystal. He then summoned his holy fire Affinity, forging a lancet of light in his palm.
He flicked the lancet; it pricked one of the moon glyphs mid-air, severing its tether. The glyph shattered into twelve pieces of glowing dross. The Nullshadow Veil wavered and dissolved.
Nyxa gasped, stepping back, moon-glyphs flickering out one by one.
"Your thread... it burns through my night. But I am bound to the moons. Witness this--"
She gestured to the sky as the nine glyphs reformed into a Celestial Spiral, aligning into a New Moon Eclipse above the arena. Light and dark collided; the eclipse's corona unleashed a beam of lunar Oblivion a raw arrow of compressed shadow.
Ashborn dropped to a crouch and wove his Genesis Thread into a spiraling seal on the ground a Glyph of cosmic compression. As the eclipse beam struck, the glyph absorbed and refracted the lunar arrow upward, turning its trajectory. Nyxa's beam returned, catching her off guard and enveloping her shade.
She fell to her knees, the shadows dispersing. Ashborn, panting but determined, offered a hand. "Balance between light and dark... that's how Genesis threads will hold."
Nyxa accepted the hand, her face pale beneath the veil. "You understand, little brother. Our powers aren't enemies... only extremes."
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『Kyther Lionheart - The Worldbreaker』
• God of Violence and Chaos, Fused with the Primordial Roar
The Earth quaked as Kyther roared into existence. He was a whirlwind of savage strength, hair a torrent of molten platinum, eyes flaring with primal red. His entire body was carved from living magma and bone, veins glowing with hardened solar flame. Wherever he stepped, cracks radiated outward, spewing bursts of scorched dust.
"Enough words," Kyther growled, voice like thunderclap in a dying star.
"Let's see whose Genesis will break first."
Ashborn steadied himself. He felt his siblings' gazes, echoes of pride and caution as he rose. His aura bloomed silver-black. He set his Genesis Thread to Rage mode. Feeling Strength and speed pulse at his fingertips. No cosmic core yet only raw childhood power.
Kyther charges, each step a small eruption. He swung a colossal gauntleted fist, the Primordial Roar Strike aimed to pulverize continents. Ashborn rolled aside on a cushion of wind from his Genesis Thread, which momentarily formed a levitation disc beneath his feet. He soared upwards as Kyther's fist collided with the marble floor, sending shards skyward like meteor fireworks.
Ashborn's first attack was elemental: he twisted the thread into a coil of lightning, hurling a crackling bolt at Kyther's shoulder. Kyther's skin steamed as lightning arced across his molten form, but he followed, gathering the electricity into his chest before unleashing it in a blacklash storm, a pulse of superheated plasma that momentarily overwhelmed Ashborn's control.
Ashborn's hair and clothes whipped as he regained cohesion. He pivoted weaving his thread into a Soulmancy tether that snaked from his hand around Kyther's ankle. The tethered glowed with azure flame, the flame of a phoenix's lament, and attempted to siphon his primal energy. Kyther bellowed, stamping the ground. The tether cut into his magma veins, but he pulled free by slamming his fist into the ground and erupting in a nova of molten shards, burning away the link.
Ashborn soared into the air, now weaving his thread into a gale of spectral drake-silks, wing-like constructs of half-formed dragon energy. He dived, striking Kyther's back with a blow that forced the demigod to howl a raw grunt of pain. Black scales erupted on Ashborn's forearms, Draconic Arts and he punched again, sending Kyther staggering forward.
Kyther recovered with a roar, summoning the full extent of his Furnace of Rage. His body ignited in amber-white heat as he spun with a Volcanic Cyclone, a raging whirlwind of embers and bone. Ashborn tried to dodge, but the cyclone's radius was too vast. The flames caught him, forcing him to retreat. He wrenched the Genesis Thread into a holographic mirror-world shift, phasing him out of the cyclone for a heartbeat, enough to avoid incineration but not enough to restore calm.
The arena lit up with sigils of Old Pantheon Law, marking the arena with divine barriers so that none of them would die, but pain was guaranteed.
Ashborn's foot slid back. Genesis Thread unraveled from his wrist, coiling along the ground in fractal spirals. His pupils narrowed.
"Animated Weave - Pulse Sync Level - 3"
Kyther lunged first, laughing like a mad star. "Let's see if those ribbons can stop a real punch!"
His fist collided with a spinning Glyph that Ashborn created mid-motion, Oblivion mark: Veil splitter. It distorted reality around his knuckles, causing his fist to phase slightly out of sync, just enough to throw off the impact vector.
Ashborn ducked low and swiped with his palm. The Genesis Thread snapped like a whip twice severing the air.
Kyther skidded back with slashes across his arms, eyes blazing.
"Not bad, threadling!"
Ashborn bit his lip. He had one final trick: he whispered a Soulmancy Incantation a fractured lament that summoned the Wraith of a dying cosmos, a spirit wrapped in star-corruption. The wraith emerged behind Kyther, its presence freezing embers into crystalline echoes. The cyclone faltered as the wraith's grief-scream blurred Kyther's focus.
In that split second, Ashborn churned his Genesis Thread into a pillar of luminous steel, forging a massive Oblivion Spear. He hurled it straight at Kyther's crown. The spear, burning with holy flame, struck true, impaling Kyther's shoulder with enough force to crack the adamantine shell beneath.
Kyther roared, axes of molten agony lancing through him, and collapsed to one knee. Ashborn hovered above him, breathing ragged, Genesis Thread glowing like a halo.
Kyther's voice was raw and reverent rasped:
"Your thread... stronger than the bones of my fury. You will one day... claim even more than these..."
He gestured at the shattered courtyard.
Ashborn extended a hand, gently pulling his brother upright. "We will claim it together, brother."
Kyther nodded once, molten blood searing the ground.
[Aftermath of the Sparring Session]
Silence fell on the courtyard as the four siblings regrouped around Ashborn. They towered over him, pride and caution swirling in their gazes:
• Seraphira's wings furled as her Choir's final echoes faded.
• Dravion's hammer smoldered in his grasp, core embers dimming.
• Nyxa's lunar glyphs winked out, leaving only her veiled eye.
• Kyther knelt, magma ebbing as he accepted his wound.
Ashborn's chest heaved, and small rivulets of sweat formed. He tried to stand tall still young, still mortal in body, but something in his bearing spoke of unbounded potential.
They formed a circle, each one breathing the same primal unity: they were siblings, divergent aspects of the same divine origin.
"Mother said you are her final creation. Today, I see why. You carry six threads of power... and even I could not break you."
Dravion nodded, flint-eyed:
"Your thread is a forge and a blade, brother. Learn to shape it, and you will alter worlds..."
Nyxa's voice, rippling like midnight:
"Balance is everything. Remember the night; embrace the void. Otherwise, flame will consume you."
Seraphira stepped forward, her wings exhaling a radiant hush:
"Ancestor Murier gave me an echo-sigil for you. When you claim your seventh Fragment, sing their song. It will guide you home. For we are Lionheart's, beyond mere gods or mortals."
They place hands upon his shoulder, forging a silent vow.
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That evening, when dusk-chimes rang and the Kingdom's twilight-harmony filled the spires, Ashborn lay upon a reflection-pool beneath the Eclipseroot Tree. Moonpetals drifted across the water, and the six Genesis Fragments hovered overhead, each humming with infinite possibility.
Queen Ashley knelt beside him, her divine presence flickering between motherly warmth and cosmic dread.
"Ashborn... do you remember why I forged you from the first song of creation?"
He met her gaze. Eyes still aglow from the day's trial. "Because... I was meant to be more than a prince. I was meant to be a living fragment, one that could unite or alter all threads."
She nodded. Gently, she placed her hand upon his young forehead. Cosmic runes glowed on her palm, sigils of Truth and Paradox.
"Your Genesis Thread is the conduit of every breath my realm ever drew. It is woven from the First Chaos Lament, the song that birthed stars and shattered pantheons. With your thread, you can summon elemental armies, unravel demonic curses, or call forth the Wyrm-Kin of the primal dream. But you must learn Balance, because every creation demands a price."
Ashborn's small fingers clenched. "A price... I already feel it. The pain in my bones when I weave too fast... the emptiness when I sever too much."
"Yes," she whispered, voice like starlit wafers. "Your Cosmic core is like a seed of primordial power. Nurtured it, and it will bloom into the Paradox Crown Engine, but if you let it run wild, you may unravel yourself. Remember these truths:
• "Genesis Fragments bind to will, not flesh."
• "The Thread responds to intent, pure hearts guide myth; impure hearts corrupt it.
• "Cosmic Affinity has yet to awaken within you, When it does, the Core will sing with duality: Creation and Destruction in one breath."
Ashley's eyes glowed violet-gold as she continued:
"My six fragments gave me stability, each one a domain: Creation, Destruction, Concept, primordial flame, mirrorlight, and the sealed final. You, Ashborn, are the seventh, the living conduit. One day, you will stand upon the Crown of Genesis and face beings older than the cosmos. But tonight, simply rest, remember only this: No heart is truly broken that walks within the Thread."
She brushed a lock of his moon-hued hair behind his crystalline horns.
"Sleep now, my son, Dream of the threads that bind us so that when you awaken, you remember why you must shape them."
Ashborn closed his eyes. In his mind's eye, he saw the sprawl of GENESIS-EXE, a tapestry of world-fragments swirling together. He saw his mother, radiant and sorrowful. He felt the Genesis Thread hum in his chest, stronger now, a symphony of potential.
As the hush of night settled around them, the Eclipseroot Tree blossomed violet flowers that chimed like distant bells. Ashborn's first true understanding of his destiny took root in his soul, ready to blossom across eons yet to come.
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To be continued....