Ashborn hovered above the obsidian training pad, the twin moons of the Veiled Glade casting pale luminescence through drifting mist. He closed his eyes, centering on the three pillars he would master in this session: Genesis Thread - Phase IV: Echo-Loom Spiral, Cosmic Core - Evolution Stage III: Paradox Crown Engine, and his Genesis Fragment, all while weaving Aetherion into his flow.
---
[Echo-Loom Spiral Weaving]
He extended both arms, palms down. From his wrist unfurled six shimmering threads, three spun silver, three spun onyx. Each thread pulsed with narrative weight: silver for hope, onyx for betrayal.
---
[Emotional Imprint]
• Ashborn recalled his sister's laughter.
The silver threads glowed gold, tightening into a "Joy Loop" around his forearm.
• He felt a surge of warmth, then wove a sharp memory of Null-Crown's blade. The onyx threads cracked with crimson sparks, forming a "Vengeance Lash."
[Thread Fusion]
• He crossed his wrists, causing the Joy Loop and Vengeance Lash to braid into a dual-tone spiral. It coalesced into a living Echo-Loom ribbon that floated six feet long.
[Narrative Strike]
• With a forward thrust, the ribbon slashed outward. As it cut, the forest froze mid-ripple, ripples reflected, each echo amplifying the cut's force. Fallen leaves soared upward in reverse.
[Cascade of Meaning]
• The ribbon fragmented into three smaller echo-blades, each tracing a distinct emotional chord as they raced patterns through the air, hope, rage, and sorrow, before rejoining Ashborn's wrists.
"Phase IV: emotion made tangible."
---
[II. Paradox Crown Engine Calibration]
He placed a hand over his chest, feeling the three-node crown of his core: silver, purple, and obsidian orbs orbiting a dark nexus.
---
[Crown of Infinite Ifs Trial]
• Ashborn visualized: "What if I could catch the next leaf before it fell?" He invoked the Crown of Infinite Ifs. Time around a drifting leaf slowed to a crawl. Ashborn reached out, pinching the air, and plucked the leaf in mid-descent.
[Graviton Reversal Lattice Demo]
• He pointed downward. The forest floor's gravity inverted: stones vaulted into the sky, silhouettes drifting like lazy moons, then settled softly when he deactivated the field.
[Singularity Net Field Deployment]
• With two fingers, he traced a circle on the pad. Dozens of micro-singularities, tiny dark vortices sprang into being around him. Each sucked in stray motes of light, then dissolved back into his core on command.
---
[Genesis Fragment Mastery]
Ashborn summoned the shard of pure will, the Genesis Fragment into his palm, its surface swirling with pre-creation runes.
---
[Chrono-Ward Seed Programming]
He pressed a thumbprint rune, planting a ward: "If my HP falls below 30%, rewind two seconds." He tested by slashing his left arm and leg with a phantom blade; the world snapped back and his wound unwound.
[Proto-Matter Bloom Challenge]
• Eyes closed, he envisioned a twin-blade staff no longer than a long spear. The Fragment rippled and bloomed into a floating weapon of stardust and obsidian. He caught it in mid-air, spun it, and struck the platform's edge, the blow left a comet scar.
[Quantum Resurgence Preview]
• He activated Quantum Resurgence but canceled at the last moment, feeling the surge of vitality build in his veins like a liquid supernova before draining it back into the core.
[Resonant Synergy in Dream-Realm]
• Because the Veiled Glade blurred dream logic, the fragment subtly re-encoded to counter nonsense: he drew a crescent rune mid-air, and the fragment responded with a flicker of dream-ether solidifying into a perfectly stable lunar-light barrier around him.
"Fragment: paradoxically adaptive."
---
[Aetherion Integration]
Finally, Aetherion appeared in his right hand, the blade's edge humming a deep bass note.
[Reality Shear Surge]
• He channeled a fraction of Overdrive into the sword, then slashed at a phantom echo-construct. The blade cut through its form and erased its last five seconds of existence, leaving only a ripple.
[Twin Reality Convergence Slash Warm-up]
• Holding the sword cross-gripped, he stepped forward and as he struck, a delayed echo of the blade replayed a moment later, catching a drifting leaf in mid-air and slicing it in two
[Conceptual Overdrive Tease]
• He whispered "Overdrive: Rewrite Mode Engage." A fractal triple-blade aura ignited around him. He bent the concept of "steel" in mid-air, and a hurricane of shrapnel, pure concept, not metal, whirled around him before dissolving.
"Weapon and will, one."
Exhaling, Ashborn let each system cool. The Echo-Loom threads retracted; the Paradox Crown silenced its hum; the fragment folded back into his core; and Aetherion's glow dimmed to an idle pulse.
----
----
----
Location: The spirit forest - Sector 7: The hallowing canopy
The wind whispered through translucent branches as Ashborn Lionheart streaked across the treetops on his Stellar Skyrider, a luminous Proto-Matter board trailing comet-tails of quantum shimmer. Below him, the forest swayed in rhythm older than time, its trees blooming with light petals and strange chromatic spores that pulsed to unseen music.
He leaned into the ride, banking hard, gravity yielding to his will as his cloak fluttered like torn banners of a forgotten war. His senses were sharp, tuned for any sign of lesser spirits beyond the trio of eerie Spirit-Sentinels that lingered in the Veiled Glade. Wordless. Bound by narrative loops, perhaps Ashborn needed to find normality, if such a thing existed here.
"Let's see... I've already learned to use all my powers now... or at least some of them,"
Ashborn murmured aloud, exhaling softly as he drifted into a slow hover above a river that shimmered like spilled moonlight.
"Now... let's see my traits."
His lavender irises flared, glowing faintly as the system thread fluttered beside him like a scroll of inked starlight, revealing the layered mechanics and truths within his very being.
He hovered mid-air, scanning the display.
---
[Cosmic Stigmata - "Dragon of True Transcendence" (Expanded Effect)]
Ashborn's back glowed briefly with the mark, a seven-winged dragon halo sigil, woven of light and fractal glyphs. It pulsed with layered authority, ancient and absolute.
• Immunity: A wave of unstable gravity-energy rippled from a nearby fracture vine, normally a tear into mirrored probability but the sigil flared, and space corrected itself, nullifying the effect entirely.
"Low-tier reality-bends? Can't touch me,"
Ashborn muttered with a satisfied nod.
• Presence Effect: As he passed over a grove of slumbering sylphs, they stirred, some prostrated, others fled in translucent streaks of fear. One ancient dryad bowed deeply,
whispering, "O Transcendent One..."
Ashborn raised an eyebrow. "Right. Divine status confirmed."
Ashborn rubbed the back of his neck with a faint, apologetic smile. He turned toward the ancient dryad, her form still shimmering faintly with the glow of lingering slumber. With gentle care, he reached out and patted her head. A soft shiver ran through her as a rosy hue bloomed across her cheeks.
"Sorry... for waking you up."
---
[Dream Logic Immunity]
Suddenly, the trees to his left transformed into laughing clocks, a ripple of dream-based interface attempting to alter his path.
Ashborn didn't flinch. His Mythoscape Flux shimmered defensively. The nonsense cracked like glass, reforming into ordinary trees.
• Enemy abilities that operate on absurdity, paradox, or dream causality now lose their sting.
"You can't trap me in a joke if I'm the punchline architect," he said dryly.
---
[Stellar Rebirth (Passive)]
A flicker and he remembered it. One of the Horrorborn dungeon floors where he was dismembered mid-roar. And then... stasis. A cocoon of starsteel threads wrapped around his failing body, rebuilding him. No spell, no potions. Just absolute cosmic will.
• Any fatal blow now placed him into a 72-hour cocoon that rewove body, soul, and spirit.
• Only Eternal-Level annihilation, true deletion could end him permanently.
"Death is no longer a 'threat.' It's a timeout."
----
[Damage Delay (Advanced)]
Ashborn's HUD blinked as his body registered three faint phantom hits, residual echoes from earlier training strikes but his body delayed them. They shimmered around his form like caged specters of pain.
Then-
Ashborn executed a counter-kick into open space, and the trapped wounds dissolved without ever hitting his body.
• Up to 3 incoming damage instances could be delayed and nullified if counteractions are made within a time frame (variable on SP/DEX).
"You hit me? Not unless I let you."
---
[Unstable Genesis Surge (Refined)]
He paused. Aetherion hummed, reacting to his emotional spike.
With a deep breath, Ashborn simulated a high-tension clash, executing a flurry of three blade arcs, then blinked sideways into a defensive stance.
Suddenly, an Echoform Clone emerged beside him, an illusory double made of flickering dreamlight. It mirrored his last three actions exactly: triple arc, side-blinkz parry stance.
• It lasted 5 seconds before vanishing into a wave of sparks.
• In combat, this would mislead enemies, divert targeting AI, or confuse instinct-based foes.
"Echo-based feints... nice."
---
[Madness Pulse - Resistance Boosted (Floor 2.5]
A residual pulse from deep below rumbled, eldritch whispers danced on the wind: reverse-song chants and inverted heartbeats.
The kind that drove mortals insane.
Ashborn didn't even blink. His mental framework, rewritten by Genesis Resonance, simply muted it reducing its physical pressure by 35%.
• Ashborn's mind was not unbreakable, but resilient. And Sturdier. Sculpted for eldritch resistance.
"That thing won't work twice,"
---
[Genesis Resonance]
As his board cruised over a strange starflower field, he noticed the air felt thick with Genesis Radiation, rich, raw narrative particles that mirrored boss battle environments.
Aetherion began to shine brighter. Data scrolled across the HUD:
• +10% all stats while in High Genesis Zones
• +Skill Amp Boost (moderate)
• Reaction time sped. Aetherion felt lighter, sharper. Threads coiled faster
"So that's why boss arenas feel easier after the first hit... I'm made for that pressure."
---
[Singularity Edge Immunity (Partial)]
He recalled the Eclipse Titan's Beam that rift-severing cannon that nearly flayed his existence from the floor. But the aftermath had left him... different.
Now, as an experimental spirit-construct attempted to open a mini-dimensional shear, the energy flared against Ashborn's chest and dispersed like dust.
• Dimensional seam-tearing attacks had diminished effect unless sourced from a Divine, primordial, or higher.
"Cosmic upgrades from pain. Works for me."
----
Ashborn exhaled slowly, finally dropping from the sky into a soft clearing surrounded by glassleaf trees. He crouched, fingers brushing the soil glowing with muted resonance.
"I'm not just strong... I'm becoming something tailored for this world's broken logic."
As he stood, the forest fell quiet. And in that hush, a subtle shimmer flickered at the edge of his perception. A child-like spirit, not hostile, just curious. Watching. Normal. Finally.
Ashborn didn't approach. He simply sat cross-legged and let the cosmos swirl around his fingers as he whispered:
"Let's see what else I can master before I climb again."
---
---
---
The clearing was silent, save for the faint rustle of spectral leaves and the hum of the distant Veil Winds brushing through the Spirit Forest. Ashborn's shadow stretched softly across the moss-laced floor as his lavender eyes remained fixed on the small entity ahead.
It shimmered just beyond the edge of a crystalline fern barely more than a shape. Like the memory of a child not yet born. Its form wavered with dreamlike translucency: a small figure draped in fluttering robes of pollen-light, with glowing, pale-blue eyes that blinked with innocent curiosity.
Ashborn tilted his head not in suspicion, but in curious observation.
"Hm... that's not what I expected."
Then, without a motion of a single limb, Ashborn activated one of the foundational protocols of his evolving Cosmic Core.
[Cosmic Core - Stage I: Pulse Weaving Mode]
> Ability Activated: [Cosmic Pulse Scan]
"Ping the veil. Whisper through the weave."
A soft, spherical pulse expanded silently from his chest like a sonar blast stitched with the threads of spacetime. It echoed across the Spirit Realm as translucent ripples swept through the forest, brushing over spirits, trees, warps, and the aetheric crust.
Visual data flowed into his HUD as ethereal outlines bloomed around energy nodes. Nearby phantasmal critters were tagged briefly, spirit wisps, blink-moths, resonance toads, but one signal glowed sharply in front of him: The child-spirit.
[Scan Result - Entity Identified]
Name: Unknown (Unawakened Spirit Core)
Designation: Proto-Spirit (Minor Echo Class)
Potential: Unstable / Fragmented.
Energy Type: Dream-Wrought Spiritweave
(Light & Aetheric)
Temperament: Non-hostile / Cautious curiosity.
Anomaly: Shimmering Core marked with latent Genesis Thread Sync Potential.
Current Status: Incomplete formation, awaiting narrative catalyst or bond imprint.
Danger Level: ★ (Non-combatant)
---
Ashborn's brow rose ever so slightly.
"A Proto-Spirit... and its core is dream-wrought."
But more than that. It was thread-compatible, resonating faintly with his Genesis Thread, as if some part of its nature was already trying to align with his.
Still crouched, Ashborn's voice shifted to a gentler cadence. Calm. And Melodic.
"Come here, little one."
No command. Just an invitation.
His voice, though calm, carried the deep resonance of cosmic equilibrium not overpowering, but undeniably anchored. As if he were not asking, but offering a shelter in the gravity of his myth.
The spirit flinched slightly at first, then slowly floated out from the brush, its feet never touching the ground. It blinked rapidly, unsure. But it did not flee.
It took a step forward.
Ashborn did not move. He lowered his aura, muting all volatile elements of his Cosmic Core, letting the air around him become calm... warm... almost parental.
"You're not bound by this forest are you?"
"You're waiting for someone. Or something."
The spirit tilted its head this time. Mimicking his earlier gesture. It blinked again.
Ashborn extended one hand not fully, just open, palm-upward his fingers surrounded by gentle spirals of cosmic light. The Pulse Weaving Mode flared again, subtly, and the thread trembled.
[Genesis Thread Sync: Compatible Entity Detected. Connection Possible.]
But Ashborn didn't rush it. Bonding with a Proto-Spirit was delicate, and in this forest, specifically this part of it, forcing such an act could spiral into unwelcome consequences.
Instead, he whispered something even the System didn't prompt.
"You're not broken. You're just... waiting to be written into something true."
For the first time, the spirit smiled. A faint one but a real one. It floated closer, now barely a meter away. The resonance between them grew faintly audible, like harp strings underwater.
And then without a prompt, the child-spirit reached forward, fingers brushing Ashborn's hand.
A soft, bright flare.
[System Notice: Proto-Spirit Imprint Initiated]
[Entity: (Unnamed Spirit Core) is attempting soft-link via Genesis Thread Proxy. Would you like to allow synchronization to continue?]
[Warning: this may alter the spirit's development arc, traits, and possible narrative destiny.]
---
Ashborn remained motionless, star-shaped eyes meeting the spirit's. The forest faded around them, as if the world paused to witness the moment.
He gave a quiet smile of his own.
"...alright. Let's see where this goes, little one."
And he selected
[Allow Synchronization]
---
The air bloomed with quiet radiance, the Genesis Thread weaving faint bonds of dreamlight between them.
Ashborn had just unknowingly invited something rare into his world:
A Genesis-Born Companion.
Not a weapon.
Not a summons.
But a spirit shaped by his narrative, destined to evolve in tandem with his myth.
And perhaps... something far more important in the trials to come...
---
---
---
The synchronization deepened.
Faint tendrils of Genesis Thread spun around the small spirit like woven fireflies, threads of luminous silver, prismatic violet, and starlit crimson tracing patterns that only the laws of myth and paradox could read. Each thread gently sank into the proto-spirit's shimmering cores, rewriting it, harmonizing its rhythm with Ashborn's cosmic heartbeat.
He watched as the Entity flickered, unstable but no longer afraid. It pulsed with embryonic light, like a soul still dreaming of what it wanted to be.
Ashborn crossed his arms thoughtfully as the aura settled into a slow, steady resonance.
"Unknown name... does it have one or not?"
He murmured aloud, narrowing his eyes slightly.
The system remained silent. Even the spirit didn't answer, it was form shifting too fluidly to decide what it wanted to become yet.
Ashborn's gaze softened.
"Maybe I'll have to give it one. Or maybe..."
He paused, watching as the synchronization glyphs began forming a naming cipher, implying that the spirit may choose a name for itself once its bonding process is finalized. The act of naming, in this context, wasn't just identity. It was destiny.
A thin sigh escaped his lips. He brought a hand up and scratched the back of his head, lavender eyes flicking sideways with a hint of resigned dread.
"Oh man... Seraphine is going to be mad and jealous once she finds out I bonded with another spirit..."
He could already hear her voice, sweet but sharp enough to slice through worlds.
"Ashyyy~ who is that? Did she float her way into your heart, or did you push her there?"
"Don't tell me you 'accidentally' soul-bonded again. Teehee~ I'll just have to make sure no one else ever syncs with you... ever again."
A drop of sweat practically formed on his brow despite the tranquil aura.
"Yanderes are scary."
He muttered like someone recounting a battlefield trauma rather than a romantic concern.
The Proto-Spirit blinked up at him, sensing something strange in his emotional flux.
Its colors briefly pulsed pink in confusion, then flickered into amused gold, as if it understood. It has a little spin in the air, clearly enjoying the process of becoming something more.
Ashborn chuckled softly, the kind of laugh that held both fondness and future regret.
"Just don't float too close to her when she's mad. Or ever. Maybe pretend you don't exist when she visits. Can you do that for me?"
The spirit tilted its head again, as if unsure whether this was a joke or a cosmic survival instruction.
"Yeah. You'll get it when you meet her..."
Ashborn muttered with a quiet sigh.
Suddenly-
[System Notice: Spirit Synchronization Complete]
Genesis-Born Entity Registered.
Name Selection: Pending...
Awaiting the spirit's internal development to finalize the unique Name-Self.
Status: Stable / Harmonized / Fully Bonded
Role: Genesis Echo familiar - Evolving Support-Type Spirit tied to the user's narrative path.
---
The proto-spirit flared brightly, pulsing in sync with Ashborn's core. It gave a delighted spin mid-air and floated gently onto his shoulder, curling like starlight mist around the back of his neck.
Ashborn stared ahead, still processing the irony.
Another spirit in his mythos.
Another living echo of the infinite.
"Seraphine is going to kill me..."
"...again."
---
---
---
The air shimmered like heat haze, distorting starlight and dream-threads as the moment of naming sealed itself into the cosmic ledger of fate.
Ashborn gazed gently at the spirit, its radiant form bobbing lightly above his palm, still flickering with ephemeral hues of moon-silver and glacial blue.
"I am going to give you a name,"
He said, voice firm yet warm.
"And whatever name you awaken with later... that'll be your second name. Got it?"
The spirit tilted slightly, like a curious kitten made of crystallized echoes. It hadn't spoken yet. But the swaying motion, the rise in its internal glow, suggested it was listening... closely.
Ashborn furrowed his brow, eyeing it with critical scrutiny.
"To be honest, I don't know your gender. Or maybe you're genderless?"
The spirit gave a small ripple, neither conforming nor denying, its essence too young to decide, or maybe it simply didn't care. But its aura leaned toward a gentle grace, a tranquil harmony that nudged Ashborn's instinct toward something feminine.
"Mhm... you look more like a female. So I'll give you a more feminine name."
His eyes lifted slightly toward the vast veiled canopy above, stars faintly visible through the most glade sky.
"Lunavelle"
He whispered.
"From where I come from, it means
'Light of Astral Waters."
The very second the word Lunavelle left his lips-
-A shockwave of essence erupted from the spirit.
Not destructive, but divine in intensity.
A direct, merciless surge of mana burst outward from Ashborn's chest like a siphon being violently unsealed.
[Cosmic Core Synchronization: Name-Branding Detected]
70% Cosmic Core Mana Transferred
[Genesis Familiar "Lunavelle" - True Bind Contract Formed]
"Khh-!"
He dropped to one knee atop a moss-draped floating platform, breath catching in his throat as astral frost glimmered along his arms and the veins of his neck lit up with celestial glyphs.
Sweat poured down the side of his face, eyes widening in both shock and disbelief.
"...Goddamn, this little one also took a lot."
He gasped, hand over his chest.
The spirit now visibly responding to the name twirled joyously through the air. Her light condensed into a clearer shape, now resembling a miniature feminine silhouette adorned in drifting starlight ribbons and translucent wing-like sails of dream vapor. She gave off soft bell-like chimes with each motion, her internal core now etched with Lunavelle's Mark, a sigil bound to Ashborn's Genesis Thread.
Ashborn groaned but smirked through the fatigue.
"Good thing it wasn't like Seraphine who left me dry for a whole week..."
He slowly stood up, the sweat evaporating as his Cosmic Energy Absorption kicked in to stabilize the sudden mana depletion. Lunavelle hovered beside him now, resting weightlessly on his shoulder like a familiar butterfly of memory and starlight.
"Let's see how far you'll evolve, Lunavelle..."
His Star-shaped lavender eyes narrowed slightly with both fondness and anticipation.
---
---
---
Somewhere Far Beyond The Fringes of Ordered Creation.
In a dimension untouched by logic, devoured by beauty and chaos.
The Realm of Chaos
A howling realm of contradiction and colorless entropy.
Planets weep here. Stars orbit backwards. Spirits scream lullabies as they devoured one another.
And in the beating core of this bedlam, beyond rivers made of reversed time and forests woven from regrets...
There lies a throne.
A massive structure carved not from stone, but from unspoken rules and shattered vows. It floats, suspended in a temple of fractured dimensions where the ceiling and floor rotate endlessly, and gravity is an idea negotiated, not obeyed.
On that throne sits Seraphine, the Great Spirit of Chaos.
Her form was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying.
Wild waves of bone-white hair poured like an endless flood down her throne, glowing faintly under the eerie luminescence of cursed auroras that drifted like phantoms in the void. Each strand twitched to an invisible rhythm, stirred by echoes of madness too ancient to name.
Her skin was porcelain-pale flawless but unreal, like it had never been kissed by sunlight only by cosmic storms.
Eyes are vibrant magenta-pink.
Slit pupils swirled in ceaseless spirals of madness.
Looking into them was like peering into the eyes of a star that had gone insane.
Lashes so white they shimmered like frost. Lips like frozen blood.
And when she smiled, jagged teeth flashed not maliciously, but naturally, as if beauty itself had fangs.
Long, elven ears peeked out beneath her silver crown of bone-branches and chaos-plume feathers. They twitched subtly. She was listening... not to voices, but to possibilities.
She wore a regal, form-hugging gown, snow-white with soft frills and spectral jewel-threads that shimmered with curses of forgotten gods.
Her gloves reached to her upper arms, tight and elegant, the cuffs whispering madness with every sway.
She was a paradox made manifest:
• Queen and monster.
• Lover and executioner.
• Bride and blight.
But now...
She sat still.
Silent.
Eyes unfocused, staring through realms, seeing everything and nothing.
---
[Seraphine's Memory: Ashborn's Last Stand]
The memory looped like a divine trauma carved into her very soul.
He caught the Reaper's blade... with his bare hand...
The metal split on Ashborn's shoulder,
The impact distorts the hallway's dimensions into a nightmarish fractal spiral.
Then he laughed.
And headbutted the Reaper so hard, the world folded in on itself.
Seraphine saw it all:
The dragon of defiance... her beloved Ashborn.
Unhinged.
Unshaken.
Magnificent.
His chest split open.
From within burst a second sun but it didn't burn.
It unwrote.
A core of broken possibilities.
A nova of shattered truths.
"Die with me, fucker."
He had grinned, like a beast who embraced death as a challenge.
Then came the Paradox Collapse.
Not a detonation but an unmaking.
Time bled.
Color died.
Law screamed.
And Seraphine, thrown by the collapsing force of his sacrifice was flung across dozens of dying multiverses, her spirit torn, her threads unraveling.
---
[Present Day: Throne of Chaos]
She sat still on the throne.
Lips parted in a silent gasp.
Eyes deadened by absence.
"...Ashy..."
She whispered.
Her soul trembled.
Her chaos-thread twitched violently.
The bond.
The thread connecting her to him.
It pulsed.
Alive.
And then, she felt it.
A flash of warmth.
A spark of love.
A new bond not with her, but another spirit.
Another fool.
A pulse of mana not her own.
A thread is trying to replace her.
Her smile returned.
Not sweet.
Not kind.
Possessive. Mad. Monstrous.
The veil of emotionlessness cracked.
And from beneath it emerged a chaotic storm of jealous desire.
Her sharp teeth bared in a grin too wide, too unnatural.
"He bonded with another spirit?"
She rose from the throne slowly, chaos reacting to her very movement.
The room twisted.
Spirits screamed.
Even the walls bled with laughter.
She walked down from her throne barefoot,
Each step imprinted paradoxical flowers that bloomed, withered, and screamed in unison.
"Ashy..."
She said it with honeyed longing and obsessive wrath.
"I told you I'd be the only one to touch your soul. Now someone else has tasted what's mine..."
Her hands stretched toward the sky.
The realm split open
Showing glimpses of Lunavelle. And worse...
Ashborn. Alive. Smiling. Warm.
"...with her."
Her laughter echoed through chaos itself.
"Just wait for me, Ashy..."
"I'll burn everything between us... tear apart every spirit... until you scream my name again."
Her chaos-thread flared with violent lightning and eldritch script as her body liquefied into winged chaos-flames.
And so she departed.
A storm clothed in love, madness, and divine obsession.
---
---
---
To be continued....