I have watched worlds end before.
Not in fire. Not in screams.
But in the quieter way, when something essential is removed and everything else must learn how to breathe without it.
The Path did not collapse when Aria Evercrest died.
It unraveled.
There is a difference.
I stood where the Heart once was long after the others had gone. The stone was cold now. Ordinary. If I had not known better, I might have believed nothing sacred had ever existed there at all.
That is the cruelty of choice.
It leaves no monument.
The first Seekers believed they were saving the world. They believed fear was proof enough to justify control. So they bound possibility into lines, carved fate into paths, and called it balance.
They never asked whether the world agreed.
Aria did.
She did not rage. She did not bargain.
She did not try to be remembered.
She simply chose to step away.
That is why history will never forgive her easily.
Q
I have heard the arguments already. In council chambers, in broken temples, in whispered conversations meant to sound like certainty.
They say she destroyed magic.
They say she weakened the world.
They say she was deceived by the Void.
They are all wrong.
Magic still exists. It is just no longer obedient.
The world is still dangerous. It is simply honest now.
I watched her friends grieve in their own broken languages.
The healer who learned he could not save everyone.
The scholar who learned knowledge cannot prevent loss.
The warrior who learned strength does not protect the heart.
The man who loved her and must now live with the silence she left behind.
They remember her clearly. That is their burden.
The rest of the world will remember her incorrectly. That is her legacy.
I did not intervene.
That is the truth they will never forgive me for.
But Keepers are not gods. We do not choose for others. We do not preserve comfort. We only ensure that the door exists.
Aria did not walk through the door.
She removed it.
And in doing so, she left the world with something far more dangerous than prophecy.
Freedom.
Already, I feel it stirring.
Not in thrones or relics or ancient bloodlines.
In small moments.
A child who hears a whisper and does not know whether it is magic or imagination.
A spark that flares without permission.
A question asked that no Path exists to answer.
There will be those who try to rebuild what was lost. They will fail.
There will be others who try to control what comes next. They will also fail.
Because what Aria Evercrest gave the world cannot be bound again.
Choice does not move in straight lines.
I remain.
Not as a guide. Not as a judge.
As a witness.
The age of Seekers is over.
What comes next has no name yet.
But it has already begun...