But I can’t.
None of us can.
The God’s presence is a weight. A pressure. Like standing at the bottom of an ocean that’s also the sky. Like being crushed and expanded at the same time.
“My lord.” Alekir’s voice cracks through the silence — reverent, trembling,desperate. “At last. After all these centuries of waiting, of preparing, of holding your purpose sacred—”
The God turns.
Slowly. Deliberately. Like time itself is bending around the motion.
And when those endless eyes fix on Alekir, the soulbinder actually flinches.
“You speak of purpose.” The God’s voice is quiet. Gentle, almost. But it resonates through my bones like thunder. “Tell me what you believe my purpose to be.”
Alekir straightens. Tries to. His form flickers — smoke and malice struggling to hold shape under that gaze.
“Destruction,” he says. “The end of what was stolen. The Valkyries sealed you away. Built their precious Absentia on your bones. Fractured the natural cycle and called itbalance.” His voice rises, gaining confidence. “I freed you. I corrupted their bloodlines, broke their seals, twisted their legacy into the key that would—”
“No.”
One word. But the weight of it makes the plateau tremble.
“You understand nothing of what I am.”
Alekir goes silent.
“I am not destruction.” The God takes a step forward, and realitybendsaround him. “I am transition. The threshold between what was and what will be. The guardian of the space between life and death.”
Another step.
“The Valkyries did not steal from me. Theypartneredwith me. Guided souls through my domain. Maintained the cycle I was created to protect.”
Alekir’s form wavers. “No. No, the prophecies said—”
“Your prophecies were lies you told yourself.” The God’s voice doesn’t rise. Doesn’t need to. “You slaughtered the Valkyries. Corrupted their souls. Trapped them in forms of shadow and hunger. You broke the threshold I was meant to guard and called itliberation.”
I watch Alekir try to speak. Try to argue. Try to do anything other than stand there while centuries of delusion crumble around him.
“The berserkers who protected them,” the God continues. “The bloodlines that maintained balance. The souls that should have passed through my domain — all of them twisted. Trapped.Suffering. Because you wanted revenge for a crime that never occurred.”
“I wasbetrayed—”
“You werewrong.”
The God raises one hand.
Just one.
And Alekir — the ancient soulbinder, the monster who destroyed the Valkyries, the nightmare that’s haunted Kaia since before she was born —
Alekirscreams.
It’s not dramatic. Not drawn out. Not the theatrical death of a villain who gets to monologue his way into oblivion.
It’s just… done.
One moment he’s there — smoke and malice and centuries of hatred given form.
