The void between worlds trembled—

  a thin line of light, no wider than a scar, shivering in the dark.

  A silhouette stepped out of it.

  It didn’t walk.

  It didn’t float.

  It simply was,

  like a forgotten whisper carved into the Cosmos.

  Zahad.

  A Primordial Remnant… but an unusual one.

  One who had refused the function assigned to him.

  A wanderer without a destination,

  neither guide nor judge—

  a dreamer in a universe that only demanded cold, perfect, obedient machines.

  Another presence formed beside him.

  A flicker.

  A faceless outline.

  The Remnant of Fate.

  Its voice resonated, soft yet absolute.

  — This world is young… but it already trembles.

  Go see it.

  You may find what you’ve been looking for.

  Zahad sighed—

  a breath that rippled across several layers of reality.

  — I’ve watched too many worlds destroy themselves before they even existed, he murmured.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Why would this one be any different?

  The Remnant of Fate didn’t answer.

  The future never needs to explain itself.

  So Zahad crossed the threshold.

  Light twisted.

  The chaos behind him folded shut.

  And he found himself standing on a crude world—

  raw, unfinished, vibrating with the tension of an Axis not yet settled.

  He observed.

  Primitive cities.

  Fragile beings, with tiny sparks of potential.

  Ridiculous weapons.

  Narrow minds.

  He was disappointed in less than a second.

  — Nothing new… Just another doomed world.

  He turned away, ready to leave.

  Then something pulsed.

  Faint.

  Like a spark falling into a bottomless void.

  He stopped.

  Turned back.

  A mortal.

  Young.

  Rough.

  Broken.

  But… an anomaly hummed inside his soul.

  A discordant thread.

  A resonance that should not exist.

  Kael.

  Zahad stepped closer—slowly.

  He studied the mortal the way one studies a paradox.

  No great power.

  No divine glow.

  No grand prophecy.

  Just… something impossible.

  And for a wandering Primordial,

  that was more valuable than a thousand worlds.

  He stayed there for a long time,

  listening to that strange resonance breathe,

  feeling the tremor of a path that should never have formed.

  A faint smile—almost human—touched his lips.

  — Perhaps I’ll stay a little longer.

  Mortals… have a talent for surprises.

  And thus Zahad,

  Primordial without a function,

  Cosmic vagabond,

  became the silent witness of a story he had never intended to follow.

  An observer.

  An improvised archivist.

  A wanderer drawn to a mortal who, unknowingly,

  had just caught the attention

  of an entity who never lingered.

  But if you have reached this fragment… then you are already watching the seams of the Tower more closely than most.

  Do not expect my voice to guide you.

  I only observe… and remember.

  Thank you for reading ??