At first, there was only darkness.
It wasn't peaceful—just quiet in a way that felt wrong. No weight. No breath. No body.
Then a voice rippled through the silence.
Kain.
Bea. Of course it was Bea. Her tone sounded faint and distorted, like a voice travelling through water.
And somewhere distant, something pulsed in response.
Pangea.
Even as Kain's consciousness drifted apart, he could feel it—the living world inside him humming faintly, all its creatures stirring as though something terrible had happened to their god.
"So this is dying," Kain murmured to no one. "Huh. Bit itchy."
Bea didn't answer. She was too busy keeping Kain tethered to reality. He could feel her presence threading through the wreckage of his mind—stimulating nerves, forcing synapses to fire, refusing to let the spark go out completely.
