Silence stretched across eternity.
Even the air refused to move, as if sound itself had been banished from this realm.
Arka stood before the throne, every breath heavy with the weight of something older than gods. The Primarch of Silence watched him motionless, patient, timeless. Its presence didn't feel like darkness; it felt like absence the void left when creation itself holds its breath.
The figure leaned forward slightly, light flickering across its crystal body. Beneath its hood, no face existed, only an endless depth a reflection of everything and nothing.
"Do you know where you stand?" the Primarch asked.
Its voice didn't echo it replaced thought. Every word appeared directly in Arka's mind, smooth and cold.
Arka steadied his footing on the black stone. "The Rift said this was the abyss between worlds."
"Not abyss," the Primarch corrected, rising slowly from the throne. Its height dwarfed the towers surrounding them. "This is where all truths begin. The space before creation learned to lie."
As it stepped forward, the world rippled like disturbed water.
Every motion carried gravity, as though reality itself adjusted to make room for it.
Arka's hand went to his sword, though he knew it was useless. "What do you want from me?"
"Nothing," said the Primarch. "I do not want. I remember."
Arka frowned. "Remember what?"
The Primarch extended its arm. A thousand visions burst around them stars forming, collapsing, reborn; worlds made of light and shadow entwined. And in one flash, Arka saw Aeltharion, wings radiant, kneeling before a being whose form was identical to the one before him.
The Primarch spoke, voice like the echo of time.
"He came to me, long before the heavens fell. He sought balance. He sought truth. But the moment he touched it… he feared it."
Arka's heart pounded. "You gave him his power?"
"I gave him a question." The Primarch's tone almost resembled amusement. "And he spent eternity trying to answer it. But where he failed, you may not."
The void behind the throne pulsed, forming patterns stars, constellations, and then, faces. He saw Seraphiel's eyes, Lysander's rage, the Celestial Court's despair. All bound to the same pulse that burned within him.
"You're the cause of the split," Arka realized. "Heaven, Abyss, creation all of it came from you."
The Primarch nodded slowly.
"Division was necessary. Perfection cannot grow. Only conflict creates life."
Arka clenched his fists. "And what are you offering me? To finish what Aeltharion started? To merge it all again?"
The air trembled. The Primarch raised its hand, and two paths materialized before him one of light, one of shadow. Both stretched infinitely, fading into nothingness.
"I offer what even the gods cannot give," it said. "Choice."
Arka stared at the two roads. The path of light pulsed softly calm, pure, promising order and unity. The path of shadow burned faintly red, chaotic yet alive.
He stepped closer, his reflection splitting between both sides.
"The Heir of Unity," said the Primarch, gesturing to the left. "You can restore creation to its first form. Heaven, earth, and abyss as one. All suffering will end and so will freedom."
Then to the right. "The Harbinger of the End. You will unmake the false order. Creation will shatter, and from the ruin, something new will rise. But you will not live to see it."
Arka's breath came slow and heavy. "So either way… the world ends as it is."
"Every world must," the Primarch whispered. "Even gods are stories that forgot they were written."
The ground trembled. The mark on Arka's arm ignited, reacting to both paths gold light flaring against black flame. Aeltharion's voice echoed faintly inside his mind, distant but clear.
"Choose, wolf of the stars. What kind of god will you become?"
Seraphiel's voice followed, desperate and trembling.
"Don't listen! There's always another way!"
Arka's eyes narrowed. "Another way…"
He stepped back from both paths.
The Primarch tilted its head. "You refuse both?"
"I refuse to be your echo," Arka said, his voice rising. "I won't be a god or a destroyer. I'll be something they can't control."
For the first time, the Primarch hesitated. The silence around them cracked faintly, but enough to shake the endless stillness.
Arka drew his sword. "You said you remember everything. Then remember this."
He stabbed the blade into the ground. The Rift shuddered stars collapsing, shadows fracturing. Power surged from him, neither divine nor abyssal, but something in between.
Light and darkness spiraled together, forming a third color deep, luminous silver.
The Primarch stepped back, its voice lowering to a whisper.
"So the Balance… awakens again."
Arka raised his gaze, eyes now shining with twin halos gold and black, united by silver flame.
"I'm not your heir," he said. "And I'm not your weapon. I am what you feared most a choice you can't erase."
The Primarch's form began to dissolve into light, its laughter soft and almost proud.
"Then go, child of contradiction. Rewrite the heavens."
The world burst apart.
Arka fell through blinding silver light, the mark on his chest burning with new power the birth of a will untouched by gods or fate.
Somewhere far above, Seraphiel's voice called his name.
Somewhere below, the Abyss answered with a growl.
Between them, Arka opened his eyes standing once more under a bleeding sky.
But this time, the stars bowed to him.