A bird-like being floated above, radiating an immeasurable, divine presence.
The very void trembled, rippling under the sheer force of His existence.
Every feather shimmered with a brilliance so dazzling, so ethereal, it felt like witnessing the birth of a miracle.
Light poured out in every direction, erasing the darkness, consuming all obstacles until there was nothing left but blinding white.
A god had returned—
And the battle against the darkness had begun.
The gods' struggle unfolded on a plane too high to perceive.
To mortals, to even the most powerful of extraordinary beings, this war was beyond detection.
But one thing was clear—
The return of the [Anchoring Pen] had bought the God of Dreams a temporary escape from death.
His form was now as it once had been, alive, untouched by decay.
But even now, merely witnessing Him made reality bend.
A god existing where He should not be.