Arena XXII

Each member, once a remnant of loss, now added their own glyph to the air. Small. Simple. Personal. A child's name. A forgotten dream. A promise once broken. Symbols of life once denied meaning.

Eyael watched.

And learned.

A soft wind moved through the field of unborn being.

Then Eyael answered.

A shape formed in the air—not a weapon, nor a spell, but a symbol. A glyph that meant: "Together."

And it wrote itself onto the next page of the Book.

The Pact felt it instantly.

A shift in their existence.

They were no longer exiles.

They were authors.

Authors of a new world, one not ruled by the gods of consumption or the entropy of silence. A world where even the Unnamed had a place—not as a monster, but as a voice.

Eyael turned to Aiden again.

No words. Only a shared acknowledgment.

And then, a question offered back:

"What now?"