The universe was silent.
No stars, no time, no memory. Only the slow, pulsing throb of existence itself—like the heartbeat of something too ancient to name. In this forgotten place beyond realms, Darius floated… broken, bleeding, whole and shattered all at once.
His body—if it could still be called that—rested within a cradle of swirling cosmic dust. Shards of long-dead constellations circled him, whispering lullabies sung by collapsed worlds. His once-golden skin was now a deep void black, veins aglow with rivers of chaotic code and void energy, his eyes sealed shut by threads of raw law.
The Womb of Stars.
The birthplace of the first gods.
The graveyard of everything that had dared to become more.
