Far beneath the veils of time, thirteen sat in the Obsidian Court. Twelve shadows and one flame.
The flame was Kassor — Ninth Seat, Blade-Walker, and one of the few who remembered Dee Megus as he truly was.
The basin of unmaking cracked like old bone. The flames within flickered, no longer predicting futures — but warning of what had been locked away.
"The Fourth Seal," rasped Null, "has come undone."
Kassor stood, black-gloved fingers flexing.
"He never sealed the past. Just what he feared he might become."
Yal'Sereh's voice carried from the First Seat: "You mean the god?"
"No." Kassor's eyes flicked like knives across the chamber. "He refused godhood. That's what made him different. He sealed the gift, not the crown."
"And now it's waking?" someone asked.
Kassor's answer was not words.
It was a name.
"The Fried Thread."
The chamber went silent. Even the walls of memory recoiled.
"Impossible," breathed Chair Eleven. "That wasn't a being. That was a consequence."
"And Dee sealed it — at the price of his divinity."
Yal'Sereh's hands clenched. "Then he'll need to face it again."
Kassor nodded once.
"He will."
—
Meanwhile, Elsewhere…
The campfire burned low.
Hiro, Vampher, and Dee sat under stars that remembered too much.
The moment the Fourth Seal shattered, something shifted in the world — as if reality exhaled for the first time in centuries.
But it wasn't peace.
It was warning.
Dee stood without speaking. His shoulders shook slightly.
"Dee?" Hiro asked gently.
Vampher stepped closer. "Are you—are you remembering something?"
"No," Dee said. "I always remembered."
They blinked.
"I didn't seal my memories. I sealed everything else. My divinity. My gifts. What the gods offered me. I refused it all — and locked it behind the Fourth Seal."
Hiro frowned. "But… why?"
Dee turned toward the stars.
"Because I didn't want to become what the gift made me capable of. Power that reshapes cause and effect. Influence that forces others to kneel. That's not a gift. That's erosion."
"You refused godhood," Vampher said.
"I refused certainty," Dee replied. "And now that seal is gone… the choice might return."
Before either could speak, the air trembled.
A woman emerged from the dark — not from shadow, but from between. Cloaked in riddles, crowned in forgotten decisions.
The Gamekeeper.
The same one from before. Her smile was gone.
"You opened it," she said. "I hoped you wouldn't. But I knew you would."
Dee stiffened. "I didn't want to. But something in the weave—"
"You never needed to want," she cut in. "You only needed to exist. And now it's stirring."
Vampher stepped forward. "What's stirring?"
She turned to him.
"The Fried Thread. The paradox he sealed during the First Collapse. It was never a being. It was a scar. A living contradiction. The thing born when power outran purpose."
Dee's face paled.
"I buried that."
"You buried it in yourself," she said gently. "Along with the gift you refused. The seal held both. Now that it's gone…"
"…it wakes," Hiro finished.
The Gamekeeper looked at Dee — not angry, not afraid.
Just… sad.
"You didn't want to be a god, Dee. But your refusal shaped the world as much as any divine will. Now, the thread pulls free — and it remembers who created the knot."
"What do we do?" Vampher asked. "Fight it?"
"You don't fight a paradox," she said. "You resolve it."
"To resolve it," Dee muttered, "I'd have to take back everything I buried."
She nodded. "Not all at once. But piece by piece. You still have time. Maybe. But know this, Dee Megus…"
She leaned closer.
"…the Thread is already moving. And it does not wait."
With that, she vanished — a ripple in air, a fold in choice.
The fire crackled again.
But no one moved.
—
Far Away… It Watches
The Thread did not dream. It unravelled.
It remembered the refusal. It remembered the silence. It remembered the man who said no and dared seal the consequence of his own undoing.
Now, freed by the Fourth Seal, it stretched.
Not toward destruction.
But toward closure.
And when it met Dee again…
…it would ask him to finish what he started.