Three hundred years after the Eternal War
The crystalline halls of the Memorial stretched across seventeen dimensions, their walls pulsing with the soft light of preserved memories. Each chamber held fragments of realities that had been—some beautiful, some terrible, all necessary to understanding the price of freedom. Reed moved through the corridors with the fluid grace of something that was no longer quite corporeal, his form shifting between solid matter and pure consciousness as his attention wandered between temporal layers.
He paused before a display case that held artifacts from what historians now called the First Liberation: a rusted sword that had once belonged to a goblin chieftain, a fragment of dimensional stone that still hummed with residual Watcher energy, and a small wooden carving—crude but heartfelt—that depicted a human and goblin standing together against a storm of stars.
