From the distant edges of the Abyss, shadows moved—ancient gods who had slept for millennia, sensing the surge of power Mason had claimed.
They whispered among themselves:
The Mortal-Born carries the blood of the Dark Goddess. The Eternal Sovereign claims her. She could tip the balance. She could destroy us all.
One voice, deeper than stone and fire, growled:
If Mason cannot control her, she must be destroyed.
The warning traveled faster than any mortal mind could comprehend. Mason sensed it immediately, though he did not flinch.
Instead, he smiled—an expression of quiet, terrifying certainty.
"Let them come," he whispered to himself. "She will learn why eternity bends to me… and why none may touch her but me."