The rebel forces moved like shadows through the crumbling expanse between realms, their footfalls as soft as the whispers of the dead. The air around them shimmered with unstable energy, and the ground beneath their feet cracked with the reverberations of the Hollow King's approach.
The Womb of Stars loomed ahead—a massive, ethereal structure suspended within the heart of chaos. It wasn't a building. It wasn't a temple. It was something ancient, vast, and incomprehensible, its form shifting with every step they took. It seemed to breathe, a slow, rhythmic pulse that matched the beating of their hearts—their hearts, the hearts of rebels and gods alike.
At the forefront of the group was the Twice-Killed Queen, her face cold but resolute. She held the shard of code that the Saint had entrusted to her—a fragment of Darius, or at least a part of what he once was. She could feel it thrumming with strange energy, almost alive in its own right.
