Five years passed.
The world had changed.
The Architects' hunt for Selene had torn rifts across dimensions, leaving traces of shattered reality everywhere. Core Bearers stalked countless realms, searching. But Selene… vanished.
In those years, she hid in the quietest corners of existence—abandoned worlds, forgotten timelines—studying herself.
Her imagination was no longer just a weapon. It had evolved.
She could now create without breaking. She learned how to shape worlds gently, not as a god of destruction, but as a weaver of fragile beauty. She built tiny sanctuaries from her thoughts—gardens floating in starlight, small creatures that lived in harmony instead of terror.
And in that time… she began to feel something she never thought possible.
Loneliness.
One day, on a quiet world where soft golden grass stretched forever under a lavender sky, she saw him.
A mortal man. Simple. Fragile. Human.
He was sitting by a pond, sketching something in a worn notebook. When he saw her, he didn't scream. He didn't bow. He just smiled gently.
"Hey," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You look… lost."
Selene blinked, unsure how to respond. "…You're not afraid?"
"Should I be?" he asked, tilting his head.
She looked at him for a long moment. No fear. No awe. Just… calm.
She sat beside him without thinking.
Day after day, she returned to that quiet place. He told her stories. He painted pictures. He laughed easily, and for the first time, she laughed too.
His name was Eryth.
He didn't know what she was—or maybe he did, but didn't care.
And slowly, Selene began to feel… human.
One evening, under a sky filled with her imagined constellations, Eryth looked at her and said softly:
"You don't have to be alone anymore."
She wanted to believe him. She did believe him.
But deep inside, she knew the peace wouldn't last.
Because the Architects hadn't stopped searching.
And soon… they would find her.