The Egoverse had quieted.
Not with defeat, but with reflection.
Pride sat upon the Throne Eternal—not elevated, not adorned, but centered. Its aura no longer commanded. It resonated.
And then, the sky opened.
Not with fire. Not with fury.
With light.
A single beam descended from the upper realms, piercing the void like a question. It did not burn. It did not blind. It simply arrived.
From within it stepped Humility.
She wore no crown. No armor. No veil. Her feet were bare. Her eyes were soft. Her presence did not bend reality—it invited it.
Pride rose.
They did not speak.
Not yet.
Humility stepped forward, and the Egoverse trembled—not from fear, but from memory. The sins stirred in their slumber. The Mirror pulsed.
"You have changed," Humility said, voice like morning rain.
"I have remembered," Pride replied.
Humility nodded.
"But memory is not transformation. It is only the beginning."
She raised her hand, and the light behind her unfolded into a garden—each flower a moment of surrender, each breeze a breath of grace.
"I do not come to destroy you," she said. "I come to test you."
Pride stepped into the garden.
The light did not reject him.
But it did not embrace him either.
And so began the Trial of Humility.
Not a battle.
A mirror.