Heaven stopped rewriting the story.
It began deleting the audience.
The first village went quiet at sunrise.
Not burned.
Not conquered.
Simply… blank.
Scouts from the western trade road found the people alive and walking their daily paths—tending fires, carrying water, feeding children—yet when questioned, none of them could recall Sunreach. None had heard of Hearthreach. None recognized the Queen of Threshold.
More frightening still—
They didn’t remember the gods fracturing.
“They remember Heaven as unified,” Rowan said hoarsely as the report ended. “As if none of this ever happened.”
My cold settled into dread.
“They didn’t purge rebels,” I whispered. “They purged memory divergence.”
The shadow stirred with lethal stillness.
Authorship Seizure has begun.
By midday, five mor
