The world held its breath around him.
Asher stood there, every nerve bright with shock, trying to decide whether he had misheard the most impossible sentence of his life.
His voice came out raw and unsteady. "W‑What did you just say?"
The woman did not blink. She didn't need to. Light moved around her in slow, patient waves, obedient to the simple fact that she existed. She began to walk toward him—unhurried, soundless, as if even the ground thought twice about getting in her way. With the barest flick of two fingers, she brushed the air.
The Chronophage—an artifact that had devoured timelines and swallowed gods' courage—shivered, folded in on itself like a bad dream, and vanished. Not a ripple left behind. As if the universe had decided it would be less complicated if that thing had never been there at all.
