The moment Kael rose from the shattered ground, he knew this place wasn't merely a forgotten corner of the past. It was before the past—a seedbed of existence, where time itself had not yet begun its flow. Above him, stars hung like dew on an invisible web, motionless and massive. The air shimmered with raw essence, unrefined and untamed.
Lin landed beside him moments later, her body pulsing with residual energy. Her lips moved, but her words were stolen by the stillness. Aelira followed, landing lightly, her gaze already scanning their surroundings, hands on her blades.
"What… is this?" Lin managed at last, her voice faint.
Kael stepped forward. His feet didn't disturb dust or soil—they moved through echoes, possibilities that had not yet hardened into reality.
"This is the Root," he said. "Where all realms are born."
In the distance, a single tree stood. It wasn't large, but it shone with an inner light. Its branches reached not up, but inward—folded within themselves, like the geometry of dreams. Its roots burrowed not into earth, but into meaning.
A whisper rose from the tree, spoken in the forgotten tongue of creation.
"Child of Echoes… you seek to heal what was torn."
Kael nodded, and the Prism core in his hand pulsed in response.
"But you carry fracture within," the voice said. "And fracture cannot mend the whole."
Aelira tensed. "Are we not enough?"
The tree's branches shimmered, and from the folds of reality stepped three figures—older, radiant, marked by age but unbowed. They were Kael, Lin, and Aelira—but from another timeline, another outcome.
These echoes carried no weapons. Only wisdom.
"You must plant the seed of unity," the older Kael said. "But unity cannot come from domination. It must come from choice."
Kael felt the Prism's weight grow heavier. "And what if some timelines reject it?"
"They will," the elder Lin replied. "And some will embrace it. But harmony doesn't mean sameness. It means balance."
From the core of the tree, a seed formed—clear as crystal, pulsing with countless threads. It hovered in Kael's hand, waiting.
"To heal the Prism," the tree intoned, "you must cast aside what you wish to preserve… and preserve what you fear to lose."
Kael closed his eyes.
He saw the world he left behind—the sects, the cities, the friends. He saw Lin and Aelira laughing under the sun. He saw war. He saw himself, alone in a world that no longer knew his name.
And still… he planted the seed.
The world shook.
Not in destruction—but in awakening.
Light burst from the planted seed, cascading across timelines. It swept through the frayed threads, mending them not by force, but by understanding. Each realm bent not in obedience, but in resonance.
Kael staggered, light pouring from his chest, from his soul. Lin held him up, her tears lost in the brilliance.
Aelira looked skyward as constellations shifted, realigning.
The Root trembled—and bloomed.
A great flower of time unfurled, petals stretching across all existence. From its heart, a voice boomed—not ancient, not future, but now.
"The Seed is sown. Let the Eternal begin."
Kael fell to his knees, gasping.
The Nexus was mended.
But he knew… this was only the beginning of the real journey.