In a hollow world far removed from the light of the Spire, beneath a sky that did not move, Saren stood upon cracked marble, his crimson hood fluttering like a bleeding banner.
The air pulsed with low frequency hums, as though reality itself were thinning. Around him stood obelisks made of shifting stone—matter that refused to obey form. And in the center, seated upon a throne that looked carved from a collapsed star, was the one none dared name aloud.
"My Lord of Collapse," Saren spoke, bowing deeply, "we have a problem."
The figure on the throne did not move, but its presence pressed against the very concept of silence. Then, a voice—a vibration in the bones, not the ears—answered.
"Speak it."
Saren straightened. His eyes burned with knowledge stolen and scars earned. "She's alive. The girl."
At last, the shadow leaned forward. Its form was cloaked in a robe darker than absence, and where a face should have been, stars flickered and died. The True Master of Entropy.
"She was never supposed to make it beyond the flood," Saren continued. "Yet Elder Ion trains her. She learns quickly… far too quickly."
A moment passed.
"You fear a child?" the voice asked.
"I fear her mind. She sees what most cannot. She will unlock what was sealed if left unchecked."
The shadow stood. "Then she must see… the truth. And break."
Saren hesitated. "There is more."
A new presence entered the hall. Kaelen, pale grey cloak etched with glowing blue runes, approached silently. His eyes were colder than the void between atoms.
"She won't break easily," Kaelen said, brushing dust from his shoulder. "She's like him."
The shadow spoke again. "You mean Ion."
Kaelen didn't answer. Instead, he walked to Saren's side and tilted his head. "Did you tell him about Praxis?"
Saren tensed. "Not yet."
"She will reach it," Kaelen said. "Just as he once did."
"And that," the Master of Entropy said, "is exactly what we want."
Saren turned, surprised. "What?"
"She must arrive. She must open it."
"But—"
The Master raised a finger, and reality bent. A stone melted into sound and reformed into glass.
"To destroy the laws," the Master whispered, "we must first gather them. Praxis contains the key—encoded in light, wrapped in force, guarded by minds trained in the Old Order. When she opens it, we will take what we need."
Kaelen folded his arms. "So… we let her grow?"
"For now."
Saren seemed uncertain. "And Ion?"
"His role is almost complete."
A moment of heavy silence followed, broken only when the air tore slightly and a soft, shimmering sound spread across the blackened sky.
"She will come," Kaelen said. "And when she does, I'll be ready."
He touched a device on his wrist. A small orb floated out—a cracked version of the one Luma had received. Instead of harmony, it hummed in disharmony, feeding on chaos.
"She's not the only one learning."