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... like broken clocks caught in an endless gasp. Time here wasn't still. It was unsettled. It shivered.

The Spiral stood at the edge of it all, an aura of madness bleeding into the fabric of the void. Not with rage this time. But anticipation. Its form fluctuated in rhythm with the whispers in the dark, as if it were listening to a choir that hadn't started singing yet.

Beside it, the Architect of Ruin.

Tall. Still. Dressed in black robes that clung to his body like mournin ...

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This was a gift dedicated to the sun god, in return for the sacrifice of the gods in creating the world.

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