The Vault pulsed in the aftermath of judgment.
Not with light. Not with sound. But with something deeper—more primal. A resonance older than fire, older than time, older even than the gods who had once claimed dominion over the Realms. It was not the echo of magic cast, nor the cry of steel clashing against steel. No, it was the marrow-deep thrum of balance reawakening. A pulse not born of life, but of legacy—of oaths broken and re-forged, of names whispered in forgotten tongues, and truths buried beneath centuries of silence. It moved like breath through the stone, like a forgotten drumbeat rising from beneath the surface of the world, each pulse reverberating through the Vault like the heartbeat of the world itself coming alive once more.
