From the crater that had once been their battlefield, the debris began to levitate, shifting upward as though gravity had been rewritten. Beneath it, at the very center, a transparent dome of energy had formed—like a blooming pearl against the soot.
Inside, the two broken teams lay still but unharmed.
Vorden stood at the center.
His hair, normally winter grey, now glowed pure white, strands floating slightly as though underwater. His eyes, once dark blue and brooding, were now blank white—shining with power deeper than magic, deeper than nature.
The dome pulsed with divine resonance, rippling softly with each breath he took.
In his hand, a communication orb flickered with worry.
A sharp male voice came through—measured, commanding, but clearly shaken:
"Vorden?! What happened?! What is that presence?! Your signals disappeared for a full minute! Are you all alive?!"
Vorden didn't speak immediately. His chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically.
