And it spoke—not in words, but in certainty.
This is not your world.
The statement crashed into their minds.
Aiden straightened, sword raised.
"This is not yours either," he said, voice steady.
The figure tilted its head, considering him.
Then it raised a hand.
The Garden trembled.
Trees withered. Streams boiled. Grass blackened.
Aiden felt the horror settle into him.
The Seeds shivered in their bearers' arms.
If he allowed this... if this wound widened further...
All they had fought for would be undone.
No.
He would not allow it.
He could not.
He stepped forward, alone, leaving the safety of the Pact's circle.
The figure watched him impassively.
"You are the Wound," Aiden said. "But I am the Healer."
He plunged his sword into the ground.
The earth screamed—but not in pain.
In defiance.
The blade sank deep, not into soil, but into the foundation of reality itself.
