In the vast nothingness between consciousness and oblivion, Klaus floated among the fragments of his shattered mind. The pieces of his identity—silver-haired swordsman, adopted mage, scholarly observer, ancient being—drifted in the void like stars in a moonless sky, each containing memories and experiences from lives both remembered and forgotten.
Within this mental landscape, amber light had been steadily spreading—connecting fragments, building bridges between disconnected pieces, creating pathways where there had been only emptiness. The Icarus cult's ritual was working, though not exactly as they intended.
A sudden surge of energy rippled through the void as fifty-two willing sacrifices dissolved in the physical world, their essence funneled into the ritual's acceleration. The amber light intensified, forming complex geometric patterns that mirrored the Temple of Eternal Twilight's sacred architecture.
Then—a shift.
