Far above the stars that mortals prayed to, in a throne hall carved from pure celestial flame, Solmir the Radiant sat still—eyes shut, mind adrift.
But peace eluded him.
Even in the sacred silence of the Celestial Core, the whispers had returned.
> "He's back…"
> "Azrion breathes again…"
> "You lit the first flame, Solmir. Now feel its heat."
Solmir's golden eyes snapped open. Sweat traced down his divine skin, evaporating into light. His fingers, once steady as mountains, trembled slightly as he reached for his crown—a ring of burning halos, forged from the essence of stars.
It no longer felt like a crown.
It felt like a curse.
He walked alone through the Halls of Creation, past murals that depicted the Great Sealing—the lie they told the world. Glorious gods standing over a monstrous demon. Righteous judgment. Divine justice.
But Solmir knew the truth.
He had held Azrion's hand the night before the betrayal. The demon prince had trusted him, smiled at him, even spoken of sharing his realm—two kings ruling together.
And Solmir had smiled back… hiding the blade behind his back.
> "I thought it was the right path," Solmir whispered into the void. "I thought... I was saving the world."
But guilt cannot be buried in golden halls. And now, with zephyr 's truth unraveling the heavens, Solmir could feel the old world cracking beneath his feet.
Still… he had prepared for this.
At the heart of his sanctum, sealed behind divine glyphs and guarded by twelve immortal sentries, lay the forbidden forge. A place untouched since the day Azrion was sealed.
Solmir stepped inside.
He knelt before a stone altar, and with trembling hands, pulled a small shard of the First Seal—the one he had placed on Azrion's heart centuries ago. It pulsed with a fading red light, and within it echoed a scream long forgotten.
> "You gave me your trust… and I gave you a blade."
Solmir placed the shard into the center of the forge.
Flames erupted—not celestial, but demonic.
And from them, he began to shape a weapon.
Not just any weapon.
A crown.
But not one of kingship.
A crown of nullity, of erasure.
Forged from his guilt, lit by the fire of betrayal, and cooled by the tears he never allowed himself to cry, this crown had only one purpose:
> "To end Azrion… forever."
As the forge roared, a voice echoed through the chamber—not aloud, but inside his soul.
> "You still fear me, Solmir."
Solmir froze.
His eyes widened as shadow coiled around the flame, and for just a moment… he saw him.
Azrion.
Not as a beast. Not as a monster.
But as the boy who once called him brother.
Azrion's eyes were hollow, filled with pain and rage, but behind it all… was something worse:
Disappointment.
> "You gave up on me…"
Solmir staggered backward, the half-forged crown clattering to the ground.
> "No… No, I did what I had to—!"
> "You did what the gods commanded."
> "You killed your brother for a throne that never loved you."
And with that, the vision faded.
Solmir collapsed to his knees, alone.
Surrounded by fire.
And shame.
Above the forge, the Crown of Nullity began to hover, spinning slowly—glowing with death.
The gods would call it their salvation.
But Solmir knew…
It was his punishment.