The air changed the moment the Sovereign stepped through the breach.
It wasn’t colder. It wasn’t hotter. It was simply wrong. Like reality had inhaled and forgotten how to exhale. Trees twisted subtly, their trunks arching away as if trying to lean out of existence. Shadows lost their shape. Time frayed.
The Sovereign did not walk.
It glided—silent, effortless, leaving no footprints in the shattered dirt.
Jace’s hand instinctively reached across Rowan’s chest, a protective barrier as his eyes locked onto the faceless figure. He couldn’t explain why, but something deep in his bones screamed that this being wasn’t just ancient—it was primordial.
A god unchained from belief.
Quinn stood on Rowan’s other side, his voice low. “That’s not just power. That’s… memory before it had a name.”
