The Starcore Sanctum was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Not the silence of danger—but the silence that follows a fundamental change, when the universe pauses to understand what has just happened.
Ethan stood near the Silent Star's core, unmoving. The three pulses within him resonated in perfect order, yet something invisible had shifted. The air around him felt thinner, as if reality no longer pressed against him in the same way.
Lyra watched him closely.
She took a step forward.
"Ethan," she said softly.
He turned his head immediately.
"Yes?"
The answer was instant. Accurate. Calm.
But Lyra felt it—the delay wasn't in response time.
It was in connection.
"You don't feel… the same," she said.
Ethan considered her words carefully, not defensively.
"I feel everything," he replied.
"Just not from the inside anymore."
That frightened her more than anger ever could.
Eldric approached cautiously, studying the flow of energy around Ethan.
"The Third Pulse didn't erase your emotions," he said.
"It repositioned them. You observe them now… instead of being ruled by them."
Vahl'Serath folded his massive arms.
"That distance is why Third Pulse bearers survive longer," he said grimly.
"And why none of them stayed who they were."
Lyra clenched her fists.
"Then what was the point? If saving the universe costs losing yourself, what's left to save?"
Ethan looked at her.
For a moment—just a moment—the Silent Star dimmed slightly.
"What's left," he said, "is choice that isn't poisoned by fear."
The First Consequence
Without warning, the Sanctum's far wall shimmered.
A rift opened—small, unstable, violently familiar.
Eldric stiffened.
"That's not the Void Sovereign."
The rift expanded just enough to reveal a fractured world beyond it—
a planet half-consumed by entropy, cities frozen mid-collapse, stars flickering erratically overhead.
Lyra gasped.
"That's… a populated system."
Eldric's voice was tight.
"Timeline collapse in progress. Normally irreversible."
The Silent Star's core pulsed once.
Ethan understood instantly.
"The Third Pulse allows me to see fractures before they finalize."
Vahl'Serath turned sharply.
"You can intervene?"
"Yes," Ethan replied.
"But only once per fracture."
Lyra stared at the dying world.
"There are billions of lives in there."
Ethan nodded.
"And infinitely more elsewhere."
The implication landed hard.
Eldric spoke quietly.
"This is the consequence. The universe will now ask you to choose who is saved."
Lyra looked at Ethan, panic rising.
"Then save them. Please."
Ethan stepped closer to the rift.
But he did not rush.
He analyzed.
Probability threads unfolded in his mind—thousands of futures branching outward. If he intervened here, three other systems would destabilize sooner. If he didn't, this world would vanish—but the larger structure would hold longer.
Lyra felt the hesitation.
"You're calculating them," she whispered.
"They're not numbers—they're people."
Ethan closed his eyes.
"I know."
And that was the cruelest part.
He could see them all.
The Choice
The rift began to widen. Time was running out.
Eldric placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder.
"No one can carry this burden alone."
Ethan met his gaze.
"That's why the Third Pulse exists. So someone can."
Lyra stepped in front of him.
"If you walk away from them," she said, voice breaking,
"what happens to us?"
Ethan paused.
This time, longer.
Then he answered honestly.
"It becomes harder… for me to stay."
Lyra felt tears rise—but she didn't step aside.
"Then don't," she said.
"Don't become something that only watches."
The Silent Star vibrated—uncertain.
Ethan looked at the collapsing world one last time.
Then he made his first Third Pulse choice.
He raised his hand.
Light flowed—not explosive, not grand—but exact.
The rift stabilized.
Entropy reversed locally.
The planet breathed again.
Cities resumed motion.
Billions lived.
But somewhere else—
A distant star system went dark.
Eldric felt it and closed his eyes.
"The balance has shifted."
Ethan lowered his hand.
The effort had cost him something unseen—
not power…
but closeness.
Lyra stepped toward him.
"You saved them."
"Yes," Ethan replied.
"But now I know what it costs."
He looked up, toward the unseen void.
The Void Sovereign was silent.
Watching.
Learning.
And smiling.