The dust of the fallen god drifted through the orchard like stardust—each mote a silent scream, each fragment a broken law of a dying universe. The Nameless King was no more, but the weight of what had been remained, settled in the bones of time.
Orion stood at the center of the orchard, the seed's taste still lingering on his tongue—not sweetness, but possibility. The orchard trembled, alive not with magic, but with motion—growth accelerating in every direction. Trees reshaped themselves into spirals of memory, some blooming with unknown languages, others with echoes of forgotten songs.
"What now?" Kael asked, his voice hushed as if afraid to break the new stillness.
"We were supposed to die here," Lyra whispered, violet flame curling gently in her palm. "Everything said so."
"Then maybe this isn't the end," Orion said. "Maybe this is where stories begin again."
Caldrein approached from beneath a canopy woven of glass leaves and shadows. He held something in his hand—a fragment of the Nameless King's crown, now cracked and humming faintly. "Even in defeat, it left behind relics. Anchors. We need to decide what to do with them."
Orion reached out and touched the shard. In an instant, he felt futures unravel—some where he ruled, others where he became what they just destroyed. He pulled back. "We bury it. Not in soil. In memory."
Lyra nodded. "Let the orchard absorb it."
They planted the shard at the base of a silver-rooted tree, and as they did, the bark split open like an eye, swallowing the fragment whole. The roots glowed for a moment, then quieted.
Kael turned toward the edge of the orchard, where the sky no longer resembled the stars they once knew. Instead, it looked like possibility. Jagged and swirling and terrifying.
"You feel it too?" he asked.
"Yeah," Orion said. "Something's coming."
"No," Lyra corrected gently. "Something's waiting."
They followed the path out of the orchard, each step met by shifting landscapes—mountains that whispered, rivers that hummed in harmony, a world reshaping in the wake of the broken god. And then they found it.
A doorway.
No frame. No hinges. Just an arch of living light, hovering between moments.
Caldrein's voice was cautious. "This wasn't here before."
"It is now," Orion said. "Because we are."
The doorway pulsed.
A choice.
Again.
But this one didn't demand endings. It invited them to begin something else.
Kael touched the edge of the light. "We've walked into nightmares and gods. Fought the Veil. Rewrote the rules. This… this feels like something new."
Orion turned to the others. "Then let's not walk through as who we were. Let's walk in as who we choose to be."
Lyra took his hand.
Kael followed.
Together, they stepped through.
And behind them, the orchard closed its petals—its first story planted.
And far, far away, in a universe yet to be born, something stirred… and smiled.