After Astraea left, time resumed.
But it no longer flowed the way it used to.
Night deepened, the candle burned out, and the sounds of the village returned. Dogs barked, the wind brushed against rooftops, somewhere in the distance a door creaked. Everything was normal—too normal. It was the most dangerous form of warning.
The mark on the table was still there.
It emitted neither light nor darkness. If untouched, it was easy to miss. Yet even without looking, Zeythara knew exactly where it was. As if the line had not been carved into wood, but into the fabric of the universe itself.
Kaelric finally broke the silence.
"If the Voids are smiling," he said quietly, "it's never a good sign."
Zeythara nodded.
"They are neither good nor evil. They are… consequence."
Kaelric leaned back in his chair. His shoulders were tense, but his voice steady.
"They're weighing us."
"Yes."
"And they see us both as guilty."
"Yes."
Kaelric exhaled briefly.
"Good. At least it's an equal injustice."
Zeythara's lips curved despite herself, but the smile faded quickly. She stood and walked to the window, looking out over the village. Lights were still on. People weren't sleeping—but they weren't speaking either.
"They aren't afraid," she said.
"They're waiting."
Kaelric joined her by the window.
"Humans always wait. For gods, for fate, for someone else to decide."
Zeythara turned to him.
"This time, no one is coming."
At that moment, the mark pulsed.
It was subtle. Barely perceptible. But the power inside Zeythara answered immediately. The familiar pressure formed in her chest—the feeling that came just before lightning was born.
"It's starting," she said.
The air receded once more.
This was not like the arrival of the Voids. It was softer. More… familiar.
A silhouette formed in the corner of the room.
This time, it was not Astraea.
The figure was female, her shape clearly defined. Her feet touched the ground. She cast a shadow. Her power did not bend the universe—it carried it.
She wore armor in tones of gold and copper, etched with symbols like living sigils along her shoulders. Her face was young, but her eyes had witnessed thousands of years.
Zeythara's eyes widened.
"Lyssara…"
The woman smiled faintly.
"I'm glad you remember me, Daughter of Lightning."
Kaelric remained cautious.
"Another god," he said. "Is today some kind of open visitation?"
Lyssara looked at him.
"You are Kaelric. The one outside the equation."
Kaelric raised an eyebrow.
"I don't like that title."
Lyssara turned back to Zeythara.
"When the Voids appear, the gods divide," she said.
"Those who flee—and those who stay."
"Which are you?" Zeythara asked.
"The ones who stay," Lyssara replied without hesitation.
"And I came to tell you this: the Voids are stronger than gods. Yes. But that does not mean they always win."
Zeythara said nothing.
"They seek balance," Lyssara continued.
"But balance is not always equality."
Kaelric stepped forward.
"They threatened us with a price."
Lyssara nodded.
"They always do. Universes run on consequence. But—"
she paused,
"—who pays the price is rarely fixed."
Zeythara's voice hardened.
"They want us to bear Zeus's punishment."
"Because Zeus no longer exists," Lyssara said.
"And punishment cannot be left unfinished."
Zeythara's eyes flashed.
"I will not become his sentence."
Lyssara took a step closer.
"I know. That's why I'm here."
The mark on the table moved.
For the first time.
The thin line widened, stretching like a road, then rising into the air. When the image stabilized, it was no longer a table—
It was a passage.
But not the kind Zeus had opened.
This one did not burn.
It did not tear.
It did not demand.
"What is this?" Kaelric asked.
Lyssara drew a slow breath.
"A trial."
Cold spread through Zeythara's chest.
"Before the Voids?"
"No," Lyssara said.
"Before something older."
The room darkened.
But this was not Void-darkness. It was heavier. Deeper. Rooted.
"If you pass through this," Lyssara said,
"you will no longer be exiles."
Kaelric swallowed.
"Then what will we be?"
Lyssara's gaze sharpened.
"A side."
Zeythara took a step forward.
"And if we refuse?"
Lyssara answered without hesitation:
"Then the Voids decide."
Silence fell.
Zeythara looked at Kaelric—long and deliberately. For the first time, she did not see him as a weapon, a variable, or a flaw in the equation.
She saw him as a partner.
"This isn't just my war," she said.
"You know that."
Kaelric adjusted the sword on his back.
"It never was."
Zeythara turned back to the passage.
There was no fear inside her.
But there was weight.
"The Voids may be stronger than gods," she said.
"But we are the gods' mistake."
Lyssara smiled faintly.
"Sometimes, that's the most dangerous thing of all."
Zeythara took the first step.
The passage did not consume her.
It did not welcome her either.
It simply… opened.
And the universe held its breath.