Silence.
Not the kind born of peace, but the silence that follows a divine scream—a sound so great it silences even memory. Ael stood at the peak of the Spire of Stars, both swords in hand: Whisper, the Blade of Silence, and the newly claimed Echo, the Blade of Memory.
The two blades thrummed, pulsed, and shivered in unison.
One devoured sound.
The other sang with a thousand forgotten voices.
Together, they were never meant to exist in the hands of a single mortal.
"Ael," Elric said softly, eyes on the twin swords. "Put one of them down. Just for a moment."
"I can't."
He didn't mean physically.
He meant existentially.
As Ael held both, visions pressed into his skull—lifetimes not his own. The memories of fallen kings. The voices of silenced empires. The regrets of men who never made peace with power.
He felt everything.
The pain of a dying father whispering a son's name.
The betrayal of a brother's blade.
The silence of an executioner's final breath.
His hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From something far more foreign—
Emotion.
Lyra stepped toward him cautiously. "You're not him again, are you?"
Ael's voice was hoarse. "I don't know who him is anymore."
Queen Altheira watched from the edge of the platform. "They are artifacts forged by twin deities in the Age Before. No mortal was meant to wield both. One silences fate. The other echoes it. Together…"
She paused, eyes full of dread.
"…they awaken something deeper."
The sky pulsed.
Clouds spun in reverse.
And then—he arrived.
Not from the air.
Not from light.
But from absence.
A figure stepped into existence as if reality had blinked and forgot to keep him out. Tall. Cloaked in void-threaded robes. Face hidden beneath a mask of cracked bone and gold. No aura. No presence.
And yet, all of them felt it.
Ael knew immediately—
This was not a man.
This was a god.
"I've watched long enough," the being said. "And you… have crossed the line of potential."
Elric backed away. "What… what are you?"
The being turned its mask slightly. "A witness. And a warden. A god of boundaries. You may call me Avesh."
The name rang through Ael's skull like a bell made of stars.
A forgotten god.
One of the old seven.
A god of Balance.
"You were not meant to hold both blades," Avesh said. "You were meant to choose."
"I didn't," Ael said.
"No," the god replied. "You defied."
There was no anger in his voice. Just finality.
"You were created for war, Hollow King. Reborn to fulfill a role. Your soul is fractured, your heart sealed. But now… the blades have begun to awaken you. That was never allowed."
Ael's grip on the hilts tightened. "What if I want more than my role?"
Avesh stepped forward. "Then you will break the world."
Arienne stepped between them. "You can't seriously be threatening him for wanting to feel something."
"I'm not threatening," Avesh replied.
"I'm warning."
He raised one hand.
The swords in Ael's hands screamed.
Whisper tried to shut the world out.
Echo tried to flood him with it.
His knees hit the ground.
His vision split into two timelines—one where he became a god of silence, erasing nations for peace; the other where he ruled through memory, repeating the same mistakes again and again.
And then—
He chose neither.
He stood.
Bleeding.
Burning.
Alive.
Ael faced Avesh. "I won't follow fate. I'll forge it."
A pause.
Then Avesh tilted his head.
"…Interesting."
A beat passed. And then the god stepped back.
"Then I shall allow it—for now. But know this, Hollow King: there are others watching. If you fail to hold the balance… if you succumb to the weight of what you carry…"
His mask cracked further.
"…I will end you myself."
With that, he vanished into the sky.
No portal. No light.
Just gone.
—
They stood in silence for a long moment.
Then Lyra said, "So. That happened."
Elric laughed, unsteady. "We just met a god. An actual god."
Arienne looked at Ael. "You okay?"
Ael stared at the blades in his hands.
For the first time in this life—
His hands shook.
"I don't know."
But the words weren't cold.
They were honest.
And honesty was a step closer to something else.
Something he'd never thought he could have.