CHAPTER 47
The blast of white and black radiance tore through the chamber like a newborn universe screaming into existence. Entire temporal layers peeled back, exposing millions of alternate versions of the same moment—each one flickering like shards of a broken eternity.
Orion didn't move.
He couldn't.
The force wasn't crushing him…
It was recognizing him.
The woman's light carved spirals into the stone floor as she approached, each step writing and erasing its own shadow. Her blurred outline sharpened just enough to suggest a form—slender, tall, with wings vast enough to eclipse constellations.
But her face remained impossible.
Not hidden.
Not concealed.
But incompatible with the world, as if existence itself refused to render it.
The crowned Watcher and the messenger were forced to their knees, both trembling.
"Wh-what is this pressure…?!" the messenger gasped.
"It feels like… like the law of reality is watching us!"
The crowned Watcher's voice cracked—a rare thing for such a being.
"No… this pressure… I feel it from outside the ten stages. Beyond the Pillars. This is a force even the Outer Gods kneel to."
Orion's wings spread slightly as he braced himself against the shifting gravity.
"What are you?" he asked her again.
The woman raised her head.
Her hair, composed of flowing strands of timeless radiance, lifted behind her as though suspended in the void. Each strand glowed with galaxy-light. Each motion warped the air into spiraling glyphs.
"Not what," she said softly.
"But who I am to you."
The chamber pulsed.
Light dimmed.
Darkness quieted.
Even the sound of existence started to slow.
She stepped closer—close enough that Orion could feel the delicate tremble of her time signature brushing against his own.
"It seems the island remembered me," she whispered, turning her attention to the canyon ceiling where a phantom moon of black-white eclipse rotated in silence.
"Even when the rest of the universe tried so hard to forget."
Her voice carried a weight that pressed against Orion's ribs, as though it resonated with his bones.
"Why do you call me your beginning?" Orion asked.
"And why… my undoing?"
For a moment, the blurred woman said nothing.
Then:
"Because I am the only one in existence," she said slowly, "who knew you before you were born."
His chest tightened.
Before he was born?
She lifted her hand toward his face—but stopped inches away, as if she feared touching him would break something important.
"I guided the spark that became you," she murmured.
"I shaped the path that led you to your Domains, to your wings, to the crown you now carry."
Orion's eyes narrowed.
"Then why can't I remember you?"
Her blurred outline flickered violently, as if the question wounded her.
"Because," she whispered, "remembering me is the price that nearly destroyed you once. A price I swore you'd never pay again."
The monoliths around them rotated faster, ripping thin cracks of space around their edges.
Orion stepped forward, expression unreadable, voice colder.
"Tell me your name."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The woman's head lowered.
"My name…"
Her voice quivered like breaking glass.
"…was erased. Burned out of every timeline, every universe, every record—even from the memories of gods."
Her wings flickered in and out of visibility.
"But this island remembered," she whispered.
"Because this island was built for you."
Orion froze.
"Built… for me?"
She nodded weakly.
"This place was carved from my power. Shaped with my blood. Anchored to my last breath."
Her voice grew softer.
"It is the only grave I was allowed."
The messenger choked on their own breath.
"G-grave…? That chamber is… a tomb?!"
Orion's grip tightened around the air.
"Who killed you?"
The woman lifted her face slightly.
Through the blur, Orion could see the faintest shape of eyes glowing with unbearable sorrow.
"You did."
The chamber froze.
Everything stopped.
The Watcher's eyes widened in terror.
The messenger couldn't even scream.
Reality itself paused as though trying to process the words.
Orion lifted his chin slowly.
"…Explain."
The woman's body trembled—not out of fear, but from the strain of existing.
"I died," she whispered, "because I tried to save you. Because I tried to prevent what you were becoming. Because I tried to change your destiny."
She stepped closer.
Her fingers hovered at his cheek.
"And because I loved you."
The chamber exploded again—this time not with light, but with collapsing sound, swallowing worlds of emotion in total silence.
Orion didn't flinch.
His expression, however, changed—barely. A fracture of something ancient, buried, resurfacing.
The woman continued.
"You were more powerful than anyone realized. More than any stage, any Pillar, any god could contain."
Her voice trembled.
"But you lost yourself. You broke. And your power… consumed me."
Orion's hand clenched.
"So you are telling me," he said slowly, "that I killed you. And I don't remember."
"You weren't Orion then."
Her eyes softened.
"You weren't born yet. You were someone else entirely."
The crowned Watcher collapsed deeper to the floor.
"A pre-existence…? A forgotten incarnation…?"
The woman nodded faintly.
She lifted her hand again—and this time, gently touched Orion's chest.
"At your heart," she whispered, "is the same power that once ended me. But now… now you have a choice."
Orion's twelve wings flickered with cosmic distortion.
His voice was quiet.
Cold.
Almost emotionless.
"What choice?"
Her blurred lips curved into a sad smile.
"To repeat the mistake."
She stepped even closer.
"Or to change the universe."
Her final words were soft.
"I'm here… because you are close to becoming what you once were."
A pause.
"When you ascend to the Pillar level… the truth will return. All of it."
The chamber lights dimmed as if in mourning.
And then—
Her body cracked.
First a shimmer.
Then a fracture.
Then a shattering cascade of black-white shards.
Her form dissolved into motes of eclipse light.
She whispered one last thing as she faded:
"I will wait for you… at the top."
And she was gone.
Completely.
Not a trace left.
The island mourned.
The canyon trembled.
The ancient throne behind Orion pulsed softly like a heartbeat.
The messenger spoke first—barely breathing.
"W…what is she?"
The crowned Watcher shook with fear.
"Something the universe erased for a reason."
Orion stood alone in the silent chamber.
For the first time in a long time,
the stars inside his skin dimmed.