The hand continued descending.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like something approaching a frightened animal.
Or perhaps—
like a frightened animal approaching kindness for the first time.
The entire world watched.
Not just Black Hollow.
The Seventh Archive remained open.
And through it, millions of realities looked on.
The perfect worlds.
The broken worlds.
The worlds that ended.
The worlds that survived.
Every one of them watching the impossible happen.
The First World was coming home.
The realization felt absurd.
And yet—
nothing about their lives had been normal for a very long time.
The throne pulsed.
Warm.
Steady.
The same pulse it had offered everyone else.
The same pulse that always carried the same message.
You don't have to carry this alone.
The hand trembled.
Not fr
