Eternal stood amidst the ruins of Cyrentha, the desolate planet now stripped of life. The once vibrant world was dying, its spirit consumed by the cold silence that followed the death of the Silent God. The air was still—too still. The faintest whispers of time, carried on the broken winds, seemed like distant memories, slowly fading into oblivion. The ground beneath his feet cracked and crumbled with each step, as if the very earth was giving way to the inevitable truth: all things must end.

  And yet, here he was, standing at the edge of an abyss that stretched beyond the reach of the gods. He could feel it—something tugging at him, something deep within. A force he could not escape. The echoes of the past.

  "You could have saved her... Val didn’t betray you. You forced her hand."

  The voice crawled into his mind, familiar and insidious. It was his voice—the echo of a past self, drowning in regret. The weight of those words was unbearable, but he refused to let them break him. He refused to feel guilt. Not now.

  His gaze remained fixed on the planet before him, his eyes unwavering, as if the very sight of it would steel his resolve. But the whispers only grew louder.

  “You were once one of them, a protector, not a destroyer.”

  The words gnawed at his core. His hand tightened around the hilt of Oblivion, its weight grounding him. This wasn’t a battle of strength. It was a battle of wills—his will against the relentless tide of doubt. He could feel the flicker of hesitation in his chest, threatening to break through the mask he had carefully crafted.

  “You are nothing,” he said softly to himself. “Nothing but what I make of it.”

  His voice was as cold as the void around him, but deep within, a flicker of something else—something more primal—stirred. Regret? Was it regret? Or was it something darker, more insidious?

  Lunara, standing beside him, watched him with her usual intensity. Her gaze was piercing, her face unreadable. “Do you regret it?” she asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper against the overwhelming silence.

  Eternal’s eyes flickered to her, his gaze hardening. "Regret implies weakness. I do not regret what I have done. I never will."

  She stepped closer, her presence warm despite the coldness that lingered in the air. “You once fought for the greater good. What changed?”

  His eyes turned back to the planet, watching the ruins crumble. “The greater good is a lie. A false ideal meant to trap the weak. It is in destruction that the true power lies. Only through breaking everything can we rebuild what is meant to be.”

  Lunara’s brow furrowed, and for a moment, Eternal saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. But only for a moment. She had chosen this path with him—there would be no turning back.

  Seraphine stood a few paces away, her expression distant, as if contemplating something beyond the immediate destruction. She held a small, golden flower in her hand, its petals delicate and fragile. As she gazed at it, it began to wither, its edges curling to ash. She closed her fingers around the flower, crushing it.

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  “We were at peace,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “For just a moment, we were free from this endless war.”

  Eternal didn’t turn to look at her. “Peace is an illusion. It cannot exist in a world like this. Peace is for those who are too weak to fight for what they deserve. What we deserve.”

  Seraphine’s voice trembled slightly, but there was no fear in it. “Is that what you believe? That only destruction can bring about true freedom?”

  “Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “Everything must be torn down to its core before it can be remade.”

  The ground beneath them rumbled. The Time Scar—the wound in time itself—was growing larger. The rift in reality that had once been a subtle tear was now expanding, pulling the very threads of time and space into its dark embrace. The Timekeeper’s influence had already started to fade, but the scar left behind was far more dangerous. It was a fracture that would bleed across time, unraveling everything in its wake.

  Seraphine knelt at the edge of the rift, gazing into the swirling maelstrom. Her face was drawn, her features pale as she looked into the chaotic energies spilling from the scar. “This wound... it will never heal. There’s no going back.”

  Eternal stepped forward, Oblivion’s blade glowing faintly in the dim light of the dying world. He felt the pull of the scar, like an irresistible force tugging at him, inviting him to step into the currents of time. He reached out with one hand, his fingers brushing against the rift, feeling the cold rush of energy surge through him.

  For a brief moment, he hesitated. It was as though something in him was screaming, warning him of the consequences. But he shut it out.

  "Good," he said, his voice steady. "Let it bleed."

  He drew Oblivion closer to the scar, feeling the weapon pulse with energy. It wasn’t just a weapon. It was a reflection of his will—his refusal to succumb to the fragile walls of reality. It was in his hands, and it was his strength. And now, it would consume time itself.

  Lunara stepped closer to him, her voice barely a whisper. “Even time falls to you now.”

  Eternal’s lips curled into a thin smile, his gaze unwavering as the scar swallowed more of the world. “Time is nothing but a cage with clever walls. I am beyond it.”

  He plunged Oblivion into the rift, and a shockwave of power erupted from the scar. The very fabric of reality twisted and writhed as the blade connected with the rift’s dark energy. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still—everything frozen in the grip of oblivion. The blade of Oblivion absorbed the rift’s power, its golden glow intensifying as it devoured the temporal flow.

  The rift trembled, and for a moment, time seemed to collapse inward, as if being sucked into the void. The scar was sealed, its edges crumbling into nothingness.

  But as the rift closed, something stirred within it—an echo of the Timekeeper’s essence. A fragmented vision, a whisper from beyond the veil, reached into the now-dead silence.

  “Eternal…” the voice rasped, its tone carrying the weight of millennia. “I saw your end… and it was not flame, nor war… but stillness.”

  Eternal stood motionless, his grip tightening around Oblivion’s hilt. His mind seethed with the ominous words, but he cast them aside. Stillness. It was a concept he could never allow. The very thought of being trapped in such a void filled him with disgust.

  “There will be no end,” he murmured.

  Seraphine and Lunara both stood beside him, their gazes hard, unyielding. The queens had stood by him through all of this, their wills unbroken. The power they shared with him was unlike any he had ever known. And now, with the Time Scar sealed, the future was unwritten. A new era was beginning—one where Eternal would reign unchallenged.

  The rift behind them faded into the darkness, a lingering scar in the fabric of time. Cyrentha, the planet that had once been, was no more. A silent grave beneath a dead sky.

  And as they walked away, the memory of the planet faded into the distance. Time itself could be rewritten. The world could be remade. But nothing would ever erase what they had become.