Beyond the veil of time, beyond the reach of mortal sight, I watch. Always watching. Always waiting.
The mortals below—so fragile, so easily broken—scurry like insects across the surface of the world. They do not know that their every step is guided, their every breath a part of a plan they will never understand. Their fates are threads in a tapestry that I weave, ever patient, ever cruel. They are all my toys, my pawns in a game that will never end. And among them, one has caught my attention.
Lanni.
Her name is like a whisper on the wind, delicate yet inevitable, a ripple in the fabric of the universe. How amusing, how utterly amusing, to watch her stumble across the path I have laid for her. She does not know it yet, but she will. She will come to understand the weight of the chains I have placed upon her. She will come to know what it means to be my instrument.
She stands at the precipice now, doesn't she? The Coldmagia Tundra—such a fitting place for her to lose herself. Cold, empty, a place where nothing grows. A place where the dead linger, frozen in time. It is here that the fate of the world will begin to twist, and she—my toy—will be the one to turn the key.
I felt her falter in the vision. It was a lovely moment, wasn't it? The mountain of corpses, the bodies of those she loves and those she has yet to meet, all falling to ruin. The battle, the screams, the weight of death pressing down upon her fragile soul. She couldn't move. She couldn't escape. It's always the same. So eager to run, so eager to fight, yet when the truth reveals itself, they freeze, paralyzed by their own inability to change what is already written.
"You are the one." Yes, Lanni. You are the one who will lead this world into its darkest days. You are the one who will stand at the top of the mountain, surrounded by those you could not save.
Oh, how she struggled. How she screamed in her mind. But the truth is a cruel thing, isn't it? She doesn't realize that this is her destiny. She cannot see that every step she takes leads her closer to the ruin I have crafted for her. Her heart, so full of hope, will shatter in time, just as so many others have.
The vision was merely a glimpse, a whisper of what is to come. The world will break, and she will break with it. Her hands will be stained with the blood of her comrades. Her eyes will be the last to witness the fall of those she once held dear. She will feel the weight of their deaths upon her shoulders, and I will be there, watching. Always watching.
She believes herself to be free, to be in control. How cute.
But I am the one who pulls the strings, the one who has whispered into the ears of gods and demons alike. The one who has shaped the very course of history. She will learn this. She will learn what it means to be the Empress of Ruins, to be the harbinger of destruction. And when she finally realizes the truth, when she understands the futility of it all, it will be too late. The pieces will already be in place, the game already won.
Her fate is sealed, and there is no escaping it.
I watch as she moves through the tundra now, so unaware of the true depths of her doom. The Rift is close. So close. And with it, the Liturgy, the ancient ritual that will allow the gods—my gods—to return in full force. The mortal realm will crumble under their feet. And Lanni… sweet, fragile Lanni… she will lead the charge.
How sweet the irony is. A champion of the living, unaware that she is the one who will bring about their end.
Her vision was but a taste, a hint of what is to come. Soon, she will stand at the center of it all. And when she does, she will understand that she has always been mine. From the moment she was born, to the moment she dies. I am the one who will shape her fate, and I am the one who will bring the ruin she so desperately tries to outrun.
The gods will watch her fall. And I will watch, too.
Lanni is just the first.
She will not be the last.
And the world will burn.