We rise.
Not in glory
But in grit.
Dust and memory cling to the gods beside me, stripped of temples and titles. But now, with every step we take together, their names begin to spark back into existence.
Not carved in stone…
But whispered in the soul.
Aveline feels it.
She stands in the Citadel of Sight, watching threads of fate tremble.
"She's undoing the weave," her seers say.
"No," Aveline murmurs. "She's writing her own."
The gods she erased were meant to stay broken.
But Lyraxis didn't bring them back for worship.
She brought them back to remember how to fight.
"You weren't discarded," I tell them.
"You were hidden. Buried. Feared."
"Now remember your wrath."
One by one, they ignite.
The Blade-Mother reforges her shattered sword into a staff of starlight.
The Storm King raises a tide that drowns silence.
The Hollow Queen weeps, and her tears become living shadow.
And I Lyraxis no longer kneel.
Not to fate.
Not to names.
Not to prophecy.
But prophecy doesn't die quietly.
As we march, the sky splits.
The Oracles scream as the Book of Always begins to rewrite itself in blood.
A new page appears.
Blank.
Untethered.
Unbound by rule or rhyme.
"This isn't supposed to happen," the Seer of Time whispers.
"This isn't written."
I step onto the blank page.
And I claim it.
"Then I'll write it now," I say.
"In fire. In defiance."
"In truth."
But Aveline plays her final card.
She unravels the Tapestry of Existence.
Reality begins to tear.
And with it?
The gods I just saved start vanishing again.
Only this time… it's not erasure.
It's unmaking.