The gate opened onto nothingness.
Not darkness — that would have been mercy.This was absence.
No wind.No time.No horizon.
Only drifting shards of broken constellations, their light dimmed to embers.
Cintiyue walked among them, each step echoing like ripples through the void. The fire in his chest flickered uneasily, as if sensing the exhaustion of creation itself.
You've come far, murmured the Origin within him.But here, even fire sleeps.
He raised his hand, and the glow barely answered. "Then I'll wake it gently."
The Corpse of Heaven
Ahead, he saw it — a vast crater floating in the void, surrounded by the remnants of shattered planets. At its center burned a single star, slowly falling apart.
It pulsed faintly, shedding feathers of light that drifted into the darkness.
And on one of those feathers knelt a being made of silver ash — human in shape, but winged with lightless halos. Its hands cupped the dying star as if cradling a child.
