World after world.
Year after year.
A thousand realms drifting along the Heartroot's branches—each one different, each one filled with broken or forgotten people clinging to the remnants of existence.
And Argolaith… endured them all.
He taught warriors to lay down swords and lift tools.
He helped farmers in fractured lands reclaim poisoned soil.
He taught dragons to speak, automatons to feel, ghosts to remember.
Some worlds took decades. Others took centuries.
But he never turned away.
He did not age—not a wrinkle, not a gray strand of hair. But his presence changed. His voice deepened with resonance. His eyes held stories that transcended lifetimes. His steps carried quiet gravity.
He had walked through the pain and potential of one thousand planets.
And each one remembered him.
