Chapter 1664: Story 1664: The Seed of Dawn
The world no longer screamed—it sighed.
The tremors faded into stillness, and the molten skies cooled into ribbons of dim gold. In the heart of the Cradle, amid the black glass and ancient ash, the seed pulsed softly—its glow like a heartbeat waiting to begin.
Zara knelt before it, her fingers trembling as she reached out. The seed was small—no larger than a child’s heart—but it radiated warmth that felt older than time itself. “It’s alive,” she whispered. “But it’s not... just life. It’s everything.”
Damien stood beside her, his armor cracked and smoldering, eyes fixed on the crimson glow. “Everything we fought for, all the blood and dreams—inside that thing?”
The newborn pulse hovered above the seed, its own light dimming in reverence. The First Pulse’s remnants and your rhythm have fused. This seed carries the potential for a new cycle—one unbound by the laws of the old world.
Zara frowned. “Unbound means unpredictable.”
Yes.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The air was thick with ash and silence. Even the heart of the world seemed to hesitate, listening.
Then the ground quivered—a gentle, rhythmic motion, like the heartbeat of something newborn. Around the seed, the obsidian began to crack. From within those fractures sprouted faint threads of light—roots, weaving through the molten earth.
Damien’s eyes widened. “It’s growing already.”
Zara’s voice softened. “No... it’s learning. It’s drawing from everything around it—the ashes, the blood, the memories. It’s remembering the world before it decides what to become.”
The pulse hummed in concern. Such consciousness in a seed is unstable. If it absorbs too much, it may awaken as another dream—a reflection of the First or the Sixth.
Zara glanced upward, where the ceiling of the Cradle shimmered faintly with unseen skies. “Then we guide it. It won’t be born from domination or silence—it’ll be born from choice.”
Suddenly, the light from the seed flared violently. Shadows twisted on the walls, forming vague shapes—humanoid, reptilian, undead, divine. All of them screamed without sound. The seed was feeding on the memory of every extinction again.
Damien stepped forward, bracing his weapon. “Zara—stop it before it burns through!”
But Zara only raised her hands, her violet-gold light spilling over the growing chaos. “No. It needs to see it all—life, death, everything that came before. It needs to understand before it can dream.”
Her aura enveloped the seed, forming a cocoon of radiance. The visions calmed. The shapes dissolved. The light steadied once more into a single, calm rhythm—like the first heartbeat of dawn.
The pulse whispered, its tone almost awed. It’s listening to you.
Zara exhaled slowly, exhaustion overtaking her. “Then we’ll teach it to dream right.”
Damien caught her as she stumbled, the glow of the new seed reflecting in his eyes. “And if it dreams wrong?”
Zara looked up at him, her voice faint but certain.
“Then we’ll rewrite the dream again.”
Far above, the first sunrise in centuries broke across the scarred world—red as blood, and full of promise.