When the mark answered, it made no sound.
There were no words.
No images.
Yet Zeythara understood.
What rose from the stone was not knowledge, but direction. A pull. A possibility.
Kaelric noticed immediately. Zeythara's gaze had fixed in place, yet her eyes were no longer seeing the village.
"What happened?" he asked.
Slowly, Zeythara withdrew her hand from the mark. A thin, silvery trace remained on her palm—not a burn, not a wound. More like a seal.
"The Voids are no longer watching us," she said.
"They're measuring us."
Kaelric clenched his jaw.
"How much time do we have?"
Zeythara tilted her head slightly and looked to the sky. The clouds had begun to move again, but their rhythm was still wrong.
"They don't like the concept of time," she said.
"That's not a good sign."
That night, no one in the village slept.
But no one fled either.
It was as if everyone had been held in place by an unspoken decision. Fires were lit. Doors were left open—not out of courage, but because everyone sensed that running would be meaningless.
Inside the house, Zeythara and Kaelric sat in silence. The table between them was empty, yet both stared at it as if something unseen lay there.
"If someone has to pay the price," Kaelric said at last,
"then we're both guilty."
Zeythara didn't look away.
"I know."
"You killed Zeus," Kaelric continued. "But I'm the reason we ever reached that point. I didn't question his plan. I accepted the passage."
"And you survived," Zeythara said.
"Survival is not a crime."
Kaelric gave a bitter smile.
"The Voids don't see it that way."
At that moment, the air tightened.
This time the mark did not glow.
The sky did not darken.
Instead, the room itself expanded.
The walls remained where they were, yet the distance between them stretched. The candle flame elongated, then froze. Time held its breath.
And then she arrived.
She was not a Void.
She was a god.
But nothing like Zeus.
A female figure appeared at the center of the room. She wore no armor. No crown. Her garments flowed like stardust. Her hair was neither black nor white, but something between night and day.
Zeythara rose to her feet.
"You're…" Her voice faltered for the first time.
"…a god."
The figure inclined her head.
"Yes."
Kaelric instinctively reached for his sword, but the woman raised a hand.
"No need," she said calmly.
"The Voids are not here. Not yet."
Zeythara narrowed her eyes.
"Name yourself."
The woman smiled faintly.
"My name is Astraea."
Something tightened in Zeythara's chest.
Justice. Balance. The scales.
"Why are you here?" Zeythara asked.
Astraea's gaze hardened.
"Because when the Voids speak, the gods cannot remain silent."
Kaelric stepped forward.
"They're stronger than gods."
It wasn't a question.
Astraea nodded.
"Yes."
The silence deepened.
"Gods create order," Astraea said.
"The Voids appear when order breaks."
Zeythara's voice was low.
"So we—"
"You caused a fracture," Astraea said.
"Zeus opened a forbidden passage. You crossed it. He was exiled. And you killed him."
Zeythara's eyes sharpened.
"I don't regret it."
"I don't expect you to," Astraea replied.
"The Voids don't either."
Kaelric drew a slow breath.
"Did you come to stop us?"
Astraea shook her head.
"No. I came to tell you something."
Zeythara didn't blink.
"What?"
For the first time, Astraea's voice grew heavy.
"The Voids will take a price.
But they haven't yet decided who will pay it."
The room stretched once more.
"Because for the first time," Astraea continued,
"those who broke the balance are not running."
Zeythara clenched her fists.
"We won't run."
"I know," Astraea said softly.
"And that," she added,
"is why this universe still stands."
A moment later, Astraea was gone.
No light remained.
No trace.
Only a thin line had appeared on the table.
Not stone. Not light.
A path.
Kaelric whispered,
"What is that?"
Zeythara stared at the line, feeling the pull of the mark once more.
"This," she said,
"is where the choice begins."
And far away, beyond sight and sky,
the Voids smiled.