The impact against the cavern floor didn't shatter my bones. It felt as if I had collided with a field of hardened static. I stood up, my joints clicking with a metallic cadence that wasn't my own. The throne room was no longer a place of weeping ink and bioluminescence. It had transformed into a grand, chilling cathedral of clockwork and cold marble.
The god did not strike. It hovered in the center of the chamber, a swirling constellation of violet light, waiting for the inevitable.
"You brought the shards back to the forge, Lucien," the entity’s voice resonated, no longer a cacophony, but a singular, terrifying tone of absolute clarity. "You have played the role of the rebel perfectly. You have destroyed the false kings, dismantled the archive, and brought the infection to the source
