In the shattered remains of what once was the Nexus of All Realities, consciousness gathered like refugees fleeing from the end of everything.
They came not as the transcendent beings they had once been, but as fragments—broken, desperate, afraid. The Guardian Protocol had saved them from immediate consumption, but at a cost that none had imagined: they were isolated islands of awareness in an ocean of growing void.
And time was running out.
Alexia the Eternal stood at the center of what they had designated the Last Sanctuary.
She had changed. Where once she had been the Guardian of Last Chances—a role of hope and possibility—she had become something harder, colder, more desperate. The forced individuation had compressed her cosmic awareness into a form that could barely contain the weight of what she now understood.
