While in the underworld, Eryndor developed.
In the divine plans…
In his vast Dream Realm, where the boundaries of reality did not exist, the air hummed with latent potential—a tapestry of half-formed nebulae and whispered desires. The Empress of the Void enjoyed shaping worlds and creating new realities, her fingers weaving stardust into mountains, her breath filling oceans with liquid sapphire. But as time passed, the fun faded. Each creation, though magnificent, echoed the last—a symphony with only one note. Everything seemed monotonous and repetitive.
She sighed, the sound rippling through the void like a dying comet, tired of the same routine. Boredom clung to her, heavy as a dead star's core.
"Huf... Orion's gone for a few days. What's that idiot doing?" she said, a bored tone in her voice, her gaze drifting to a constellation she'd sculpted from his laughter millennia ago—now cold and silent.
