The world trembled, and an invisible wave of force rippled through space.
The first line on the canvas of time quivered, still uncertain, as if doubting its own existence. The fire surrounding Flamen flickered, searching for form. And the shadow the Hollow One had touched vibrated, as if awakening from a deep slumber.
And then came the sound.
Not a voice, not a whisper, but a hum—pulsating, slow, ancient. It resonated from everywhere, as if the very foundation of reality had begun to breathe.
Emiren felt something shift.
The canvas before him was no longer empty. His touch had set the act of creation in motion, and now contours began to appear: at first thin, almost invisible, gradually gaining depth and reality.
The sky came first—black, boundless, scattered with myriad stars that flared up as if awakening from an age-old sleep. Then, from the depths of space, islands of matter emerged—fragments of a long-destroyed world, gathering together, trying to reclaim their wholeness.
Flamen felt the fire around him was no longer just an element. It had gained meaning. His choice had given it will. Now it was not a chaotic force, but something more—a living flame that decided for itself what to consume and what to preserve.
The Hollow One, meanwhile, gazed into his own reflection.
The shadow he had touched was changing. It morphed into shifting images: a warrior in a black cloak, a child standing before the abyss, an old man hunched over broken clocks.
— What is this? — the Hollow One murmured.
— The echoes of what you could have become, — answered the voice, emerging once more from nowhere.
The same voice that had spoken to them at the Crossing.
But now it sounded different. There was curiosity in it.
As if the world itself was trying to understand what they were creating.
Form from Nothing
The outlines of the world grew sharper.
The sky that Emiren had painted in a single motion expanded, stretching across the space around them. The stars, once mere specks of light, exploded into being, birthing new worlds.
Flamen watched as his fire met the fragments of matter Emiren had formed. He thought the fire would destroy them—but it didn’t.
Instead, the flames fused with the stone, transforming it. It became stronger, hardened as if tempered. Mountains emerged, their peaks laced with ruby-like crystals. Rivers of lava flowed, slicing through the land, yet instead of consuming it, they brought it to life.
— I’m not destroying, — Flamen whispered in astonishment.
— No, — the voice responded. — You are shaping.
The Hollow One hesitated.
His reflection no longer shifted. It had solidified into a single image—a dark figure, faceless, with empty eyes.
— If you do not choose, you will remain only a shadow, — the voice said.
— What does that mean? — the Hollow One asked.
— You exist only because the possibility of you exists. But will you become real, or remain just a possibility?
The Hollow One exhaled.
He took a step forward—and his body dissolved into his own reflection.
The world shuddered once more.
The Awakening of the Created
— It is done, — said the voice.
The sky above them solidified. It was no longer just a painted canvas—it was a true expanse, filled with stars and celestial bodies, each glowing with its own life.
The matter Emiren had created was no longer fragmented—now it was whole, with lands and waters, skies and storms forming within it.
Flamen felt his fire no longer struggling to escape. It had become part of this world.
And the Hollow One…
He was gone.
— He has chosen his path, — the voice said.
Emiren looked around, but there was no trace of the Hollow One anywhere.
— Where did he go? — Flamen asked.
— He became what he chose to become.
And at that very moment, as those words were spoken, the shadows around them stirred.
Something was emerging from the darkness.
Not enemies.
But not allies either.
New creations.
Beings born of their reality.
Beings who, like them, had the power to shape eternity.