- At Sanctum Aeterna.
Inside the Sanctum Aeterna, where the floor mirrored the sky itself, reflecting distant stars and drifting constellations, and pillars held entire galaxies in perfect stasis, while the ceiling was a shifting tapestry of memories, dreams, and wars never spoken.
This was not a room. Not a hall. Not a place... It was intent, given form.
At its center stood a circle of thrones.
None higher.
None lower.
Arranged not to enforce hierarchy, but alignment.
Each Throne was not forged from gold, divinity, or pride, but from understanding itself, transparent, eternal, and unbearably heavy with meaning.
Yet when a being sat upon one, be it god, titan, or something older, the Throne changed.
It reshaped itself according to the deepest essence of its occupant.
Their truth.
