The Egoverse shimmered with quiet light.
The thread of Patience still wrapped around the Throne Eternal, pulsing gently like a heartbeat. Pride sat beside it, no longer waiting—simply present.
Then came Charity.
She descended not in brilliance, but in offering.
Her robes were stitched from gifts never acknowledged. Her hands carried nothing—and yet, they overflowed. Her eyes held no judgment, only invitation.
She stepped into the Egoverse, and the stars leaned closer.
Pride rose.
Charity did not speak.
She knelt.
And from her palms, light bloomed—not to dazzle, but to give.
A child's laughter.
A stranger's kindness.
A sacrifice made in silence.
Pride watched.
"You have remembered," Charity said softly. "You have healed. You have endured. But can you give without being seen?"
Pride hesitated.
The sins stirred again—Greed's chains rattled, Gluttony's hunger twitched. Not in defiance. In reminder.
Pride had once taken.
To build.
To rule.
To be admired.
Charity stepped forward and placed a single ember in Pride's hand.
"This is a gift," she said. "You must give it away. Not to earn. Not to prove. Simply to offer."
Pride looked at the ember.
It pulsed with warmth.
And he understood.
Charity smiled.
"You are ready."
She turned, leaving behind a single ribbon—woven from generosity, dyed in dusk.
It wrapped around the Throne Eternal, not as decoration, but as a vow:
To give is to become.