The Third Dimension was a wound in the fabric of existence.
Nexarion's fractal-edged form solidified into flesh and bone as he tumbled through the rift, his planar geometry collapsing into three-dimensional weight. The air reeked of ionized metal and charred ozone, the sky a patchwork of roiling ash-clouds and bleeding stars. Below sprawled a battlefield where mortal champions of Balance and Chaos clashed—colossal warriors carved valleys with weapons of lightning and molten star-core, their roars shaking the heavens.
But Nexarion saw deeper.
Time particles swirled like ghostly fireflies around the combatants, their crystalline facets glinting with stolen moments. Each particle held a shard of the All-Known Dimension's archive—a fractured memory, a probable future, a lie mistaken for truth. To mortals, time was a river. To Nexarion, it was a shattered mirror.
"You see them now," hissed the Whispering Void, its serpentine form coiling around a nearby spire of crumbling obsidian. "Feed on them, and the hunger will quiet. For a time."
Nexarion flexed his new hands, the shadow of his fractal tendrils lurking beneath the skin. "I don't want echoes. I want answers."
The Void laughed, a sound like glass grinding against bone. "Answers are for the full. You, little god, are still starving."
Lumina's Gambit
A voice cut through the din—human, yet resonant with cosmic authority.
"You are not mortal."
Nexarion turned.
Lumina stood atop a skeletal spire, her armor inlaid with pulsing time particles, their refracted light painting prismatic scars across her face. Her glaive hummed with spacetime energy, its blade a sliver of fourth-dimensional geometry forced into three-dimensional submission. She stared at him with mismatched eyes—one blue as a dying star, one gold as a newborn singularity.
"Nor are you god," she said, her voice edged with suspicion. "What are you?"
Nexarion's hunger stirred, drawn to the time particles in her armor. "A question."
Before Lumina could reply, the spire beneath them shifted. Stone cracked and reshaped, rising into a titan of living rock—a golem with a core of condensed elements. Its voice boomed like tectonic plates screaming in unison:
"Aberration detected. Purge protocol initiated."
The Spire, an enforcer of Balance, swung a fist the size of a comet. Nexarion dodged, but Lumina stood her ground, glaive flashing.
CLANG!
The blow sent her skidding across the spire's surface, her boots carving furrows in the stone. She grinned, blood trickling from her split lip. "You'll need to hit harder to beat me, old friend!"
Nexarion frowned. "You fight for it?"
"I fight for equilibrium," Lumina said, leaping onto the Spire's arm. "Even when it tries to kill me!"
Temple of Ice (Flashback Interlude)
As the Spire's core pulsed, a memory surged into Nexarion's mind—not his own, but Lumina's:
A younger Lumina knelt in a temple of ice, her hands raw from carving runes into a glaive older than stars. The walls wept glacial tears, freezing and melting in cycles. Her mentor, a wizened figure with eyes like frozen supernovae, placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Balance isn't stasis," he said, his breath frosting the air. "It's the art of holding contradictions. Even this—" He gestured to a melting ice pillar that refroze mid-collapse. "—is part of the beautiful dance."
Lumina traced a rune, her blood searing the ice. "And if the dance fails?"
"Then we relearn the steps."
The memory dissolved as the Spire's fist nearly crushed her.
The Spire's Mourning
Nexarion lunged, fractal tendrils piercing the Spire's stony flesh. Time particles materialized bled from its wounds, each a screaming echo of unmade futures.
"Why cling to Balance?" Nexarion growled. "It's a cage."
The Spire's voice faltered, its core flickering. "I… could have been more."
For a heartbeat, Nexarion hesitated. The Spire's regret mirrored his own hunger—a longing to transcend its purpose.
Then the Void's whisper slithered in: "Sympathy is a noose, little god. Cut it."
Nexarion drove his tendrils deeper. The Spire shattered, its essence flooding his veins.
The Void's Warning
As the Third Dimension unraveled—mountains dissolving into sand, rivers flowing backward—the Void coiled around Nexarion.
"The cracks spread," it hissed, gesturing to fissures in the sky where absolute blackness gnawed at reality. "The All-Known awaits. But beware… it hungers too."
Nexarion tore a rift to the Fourth Dimension, its edges fraying with chronal static. Lumina's glaive clattered to the ground as she recoiled.
"Wait!"
He stepped into the storm. "Find me when you're hungry enough to see the truth."