The newborn sovereign flickered like an unsteady flame in deep space.
Unstable.
Untested.
Alive.
Its signal trembled at the edge of perception, flaring too brightly one moment and nearly collapsing the next. It had power—raw, undeniable power—but no structure to hold it. No doctrine to guide it. No architecture to define the boundaries of its own expansion.
It was ignition without geometry.
Ethan monitored it through the entanglement lattice, awareness extended across the conceptual thread linking his Convergence World and the distant stratified sovereign. The newborn's energy pattern was chaotic—no dominant philosophy yet. No hierarchy. No convergence. No compression discipline.
Just a storm of sovereignty trying to become a system.
Kaelith stood at his side at the convergence spire, her shadowflame subdued to a contemplative flicker as she studied the faint, erratic pulses stabilizing in uneven waves.
"It's afraid," she murmured.
"Yes."
