—Your future has an owner. And it's not you —he murmured, slowly running his twisted fingers along the edge of the sword, as if weighing the exact value of the destiny he had just claimed.

... With infinite tenderness, and with tears still falling, she released the thread, letting it follow its entangled course.

... A tear traced a path through the dust on her cheek. She wasn't crying out of sorrow; she was crying because she knew she could undo it.
She knew that with one pull, she could rip the pain out by the roots. But that knot was not bad luck; it was tangled by her brother's poor choices.

...

... The Matrix revealed itself before her eyes, and the Threads of Destiny shone, banishing her fatigue instantly.

Within the silver glow, one called to her: a familiar thread, strangled by a complex knot.

It was her brother's thread.

...

She wore the dream she only dared to use in private: a sapphire-blue silk bodice whose embroideries, unbeknownst to her, wove runes of solace. Beneath it, reality: a dirty, patched skirt of coarse wool.

Exhausted after her day at the loom, the universe granted her a moment of clarity.
...

... Every essence he drains brings him one step closer to his vengeance, but also sinks his core deeper into the affliction that corrupts him. They used him to destroy a plague and created something infinitely more voracious.

... Two opposing Stars in perpetual war, forcibly united by a single, cold seam of Silver Fate that crosses his torso.

Tirenu no longer conquers; he lives in a perpetual state of hunt, seeking the Star that betrayed him, feeding the agonizing ember in his chest to postpone turning to ash forever.

...turning into a sickly, ocher glow that reeks of burnt earth. The Star did not die completely; it embedded itself in his core like a parasite, fighting for dominance in his chest and smothering his flames into a black, hungry ember.

The contract seemed simple: destroy the Barren Earth Star that was consuming his contractor's armies. No one told him the price of such a Collision...

When his fire finally devoured that cursed wasteland, the hellish red of his flames was extinguished forever...

... The only thing alive in that profane place was his own heart, beating with a ferocious rage against the imposed silence.

... A wave of absolute cold swept through the canyon. The heat fled like a wounded animal. The sweat on Einar's face turned to frost. The flies dropped instantly. The stench of death was eradicated, replaced by the sterile scent of cold iron and ancient bone...

The skeletal steed reared up on its hind legs, looming imposingly against the light. Upon its back, the Rider raised a hand, and they hung suspended in time unnaturally.

It was not a quick gesture, but a deliberate one, like the closing of a great book. And as he did it, the universe shattered...

The stench was unbearable. The air, hot and humid, clung to the skin like a second layer, heavy with dust and the drone of swarms of flies, drunk on decay.

From within the metallic forest of impaled bodies, a silhouette materialized from the very rot itself...

... The donkey, who knew the price, averted its gaze and kept walking.

... As he broke the seal, the mercurial elixir rushed onto his cracked skin. It penetrated. It spread.

New muscles sprouted, silver veins traced fresh paths beneath his flesh, twisting like electric serpents. At last, Ephraim knew the glory of the titans...

The donkey advanced heavily, its calloused hooves sinking into the cold sand. The wicker baskets, filled with arcane herbs, exhaled a cloying fragrance that mingled with the stench of burnt flesh and bitter ointments.

Ephraim Le Vieux held the vial with trembling fingers...