The world didn't shatter.
It bent.
The throne room warped like a memory on fire, banners twitching with broken code, glyphlight bleeding from the cracks in the marble. The thrones above were gone. The avatars? Scattered dust. But the air still pulsed with divine heat.
The Tribunal was over.
But the system wasn't finished.
[System Status – Tribunal: Shattered]
[Exposure: 99.9% – Containment Failed]
I stood at the center of it all—bare, burning, bonded. Crownless, but no longer unknown.
The Queen stood near the throne, her hand resting on the broken glyphwork like a priestess guarding a tomb. Not her seat.
Mine.
The Matron walked barefoot across fractured stone, each step trailing shrine-pulse behind her like blood in water.
And Seraphine?
She stood at the gates with her sword lowered, her eyes locked not on the danger—
But on me.
"They're gone," I said, voice low. "So why does it still feel like something's watching?"
