But victory always comes with a price, and mine is steeper than I could have imagined. The shockwave that freed the cultists doesn't stop at the chamber walls—it ripples outward, deeper, striking the ancient seal itself with more force than I intended.
The sound that follows isn't quite an earthquake, isn't quite thunder, but something worse—the sound of reality tearing.
Cracks appear in the air itself, spreading like a spider web across the chamber, and through those cracks seeps something that makes Nyx'Thal's darkness look like a candle flame.
This isn't the controlled hunger of a deity seeking worship—this is primal, endless, the kind of hunger that devours galaxies.
A Primordial.
The name comes to me through Nyx'Thal's terror—yes, terror, not rage—as her presence writhes in my mind like a trapped animal.
She's afraid.
The deity who has haunted my bloodline for generations is suddenly, utterly afraid.
"You don't understand," her voice whispers desperately in my mind.
"The co
