The void exhaled around them, a silent acknowledgment of creation claimed. The Fifth Path shimmered, no longer a passive expanse but a realm receptive to intent—every thought, every heartbeat, a potential stroke of pen upon the codex. The air itself hummed, alive with expectation, as if reality had paused, holding its breath to see what the Trinity would dare to inscribe next.
Fenric's silver fire curled along the edges of the codex, threads weaving into a lattice of light and possibility. "We start small," he murmured, voice low but unyielding. "One law. One corner. One act of order that does not suffocate." His hands moved, tracing a network of silver lines that birthed a single city in the void—walls, streets, and towers all drawn by careful intent, not instinct, not symmetry. Each building pulsed with life, but only as much as the people within would choose to give it.
