The shards of the shattered space hung in the void like frozen rain, each reflecting fragments of the crumbling domain.
Through the largest rift, the young boy's body was visible, a slim figure with long white hair covering him like veils of mist, partially obscuring his pale, delicate face.
His white eyes, wide with this new emotion, this terror, stared back at the intruders.
Bel, Regulus, and Aurus froze for a split second.
But in that moment, the Slumbering King's mind fractured inward, pulling him into a torrent of memories.
He had appeared out of nowhere, not born from flesh or flame, but emerging like an idea given form in the shadows of the demon realms.
He appeared almost by accident, like an idea given form. In the depths of the dream, he awoke to a voice that whispered, guiding his steps.
Like an animal obeying instinct, he followed, and in doing so, shaped the world around him into something new.
