**Kelly Thompson's POV** The new world isn't just alive-it's *hungry*. Crystalline trees shiver as we pass, their songlike hums sharpening into dissonant shrieks when the Hunter's shadow grazes their roots. Rivers of liquid memory churn with faces I don't recognize-soldiers, lovers, children-all m
Eden moves faster than thought, tearing the vines apart. The Forest shrieks, trees bending toward us, leaves aimed like daggers. *"Foolish boy,"* the Rootmother hisses. *"You'll doom us all!"* "Maybe," Eden says, static crackling in his palms-*his* static, gold and wild. "But I'm done letting gods
**Kelly Thompson's POV** The void isn't empty-it's *judging*. Eden stands before us, haloed by a light that doesn't cast shadows. His scars are gone, his eyes the stormlit blue they were before the crown, before the Silence carved him hollow. But the air around him thrums with a tension that makes
**Kelly Thompson's POV** The new song isn't a song-it's a *snare*. The note lingers, a silver thread in the air that hums with Eden's timbre, Eden's pain. I follow it, the static in my veins pulsing like a compass needle. The Hunter trails behind, his breath uneven, his crow-feather coat singed an
**Kelly Thompson's POV** The wasteland isn't dead-it's *digesting*. Gray dust shifts like the innards of some colossal beast, the air thick with the metallic tang of half-formed realities. Eden stands ahead, his silhouette haloed by a sickly amber sky. His scars, once jagged cracks of gold, now pu
"Enough," he growls. The Archivist snarls. "You're out of bounds, Hunter." He ignores her, turning to me. "Get up. Unless you want to be a footnote." The static recognizes him. Not his face-his *essence*. He smells of blood and static, like me. "Who are you?" I demand. He sheathes his blade. "S