The throne room had become a mausoleum of power, its crystalline walls reflecting the aftermath of cosmic violence in fractal patterns.
Fragments of stellar matter drifted through the air like luminescent snow, the residue of energies that had reshaped the nature of local reality. And at the center of it all, King Edmond lay broken!
His breathing came in shallow gasps that spoke of internal damage beyond any healing art's ability to repair.
Where once he had radiated the casual authority of a being who could conjure moons, now he seemed diminished…not just physically, but existentially, as if some essential component of his presence had been torn away.
When he tried to speak, damaged tentacles emerged weakly from his throat, organs of consumption that had once devoured stellar matter now reduced to twitching remnants of their former glory!
The words that escaped around them carried the weight of genuine bewilderment.
"I... do not... know you."
