Adrasteia was not yet whole.
But it was alive.
And because of that, something—or someone—finally responded.
Not the Faction. Not the Old Gods. Not the observers.
But a figure from the first universe.
From a world no longer named.
From the origin of direction.
From a place where form did not grow—but was won.
He descended not with light.
Not with thunder.
But with a silence that made all space lose its footing.
And Reed… stared at him.
His Name Cannot Be Long Remembered.
He did not call himself a God.
But the meaning around him warped.
Sentences became weapons.
Silence became commands.
And with every step he took, time rewrote the reasons why he had come.
He said only:
"You are a form that does not die."
"And for that, you have the right to ask questions of worlds that have ceased to answer."
"My name is not to be kept.
But to be challenged."
He looked at Reed and Made an Offer
"The First Universe watches.
The Second through Six decline.
