What were the chances that the God of Fate and Fortune—the one who watched over the ever-weaving threads of destiny—would notice when a long-forgotten thread suddenly reappeared?
Quite high.
Ever since the Great War, he had been quietly, relentlessly searching for that one particular thread—the thread that once belonged to his eldest son.
The strongest of them all.
He never accepted what Solaris had told him. That his firstborn had fallen. That a handful of Chaos dwellers had brought about his end.
It simply didn't sit right with him.
And yet, Solaris had no reason to lie. The vast sea of fate threads had offered no contradiction either. The thread had vanished, its connection lost.
Veyra was gone.
Dead.
Still, he kept searching.
He couldn't explain why, but deep inside, he felt it.
His son was out there. Wounded. Scarred. But not gone.
