The seed drifted silently through the void.
It had no shape, no scent, no weight — and yet, where it passed, entire laws bent to accommodate its potential. Born from the Nexus Tree, forged in rebellion, it carried no agenda. Only a promise: What was forgotten may yet become.
It landed on soil unmarked by history. A realm beyond the Loom's surveillance. No names. No gods. No fate.
Kael stepped through the rift moments later.
Lin followed, silent, her hand never straying from the hilt at her hip. Behind them came Aelira, her cloak still crackling with ambient thunder, and the Ashborn — not all, just a few. Enough to plant foundations, not legacies.
Before them stretched a plain of shimmering dust. Skies of colorless twilight. Trees half-born and crumbling mountains like ancient breath held too long.
"This place feels… forgotten," Lin said, her voice hushed.
Kael knelt where the seed had landed. A single pulse ran through the ground as he touched it. Around them, the air thickened. Dreams began to take root.
Not visions. Not illusions.
Possibilities.
A village formed in the blink of an eye — crude at first, then growing in complexity. No blueprint, no hand of god. Only intent. The Ashborn watched, hesitant. One stepped forward and placed his palm to the ground.
From it sprang a house — tall and crooked, adorned in symbols from a life he barely remembered.
"This is not creation," Aelira whispered. "It's… restoration."
"No," Kael corrected gently. "It's choice."
He turned to them all.
"Here, we grow what we wish. Not by command, not by prophecy. But by memory and desire. Let this garden be the first."
The Ashborn spread across the land, and with each step, with each thought, the soil responded. Cities once lost reformed as echoes. Fields bloomed not with flowers, but forgotten songs. Statues rose bearing faces that never lived — but might have.
Lin stepped closer to Kael, eyes narrowed. "If others find this place—"
"They will," Kael said. "And they will add their own truths."
Aelira frowned. "And if their truths are poison?"
Kael turned to the Nexus seedling now sprouting behind them, its branches weaving in and out of visibility.
"Then the garden will show them what they truly are. And we will be its roots."
A sudden gust swept across the plain. In its wake, came laughter. Not malevolent — but childlike. Shadows formed at the edge of the dream-garden. New visitors. Not warriors. Drifters. Those cast out from countless weaves, drawn by the pull of something real.
They looked upon Kael not with reverence — but hope.
Lin whispered, "They see you as a god."
Kael shook his head. "Then they're mistaken. I am only a door."
The Nexus Tree behind him flared, its light casting silhouettes of futures yet to be born. And far in the sky, something shifted — not a threat, but attention. The greater Weaves were watching now.
Kael faced the sky and smiled.
"Let them come."
For in this garden, reality would no longer be dictated — it would be chosen.