49.- The Cosmos

Aurora shifted on her throne of bones, her majestic figure cloaked in a darkness that seemed to absorb the light from the gems embedded in the walls of the fourth floor of her dungeon. Her green hair fell in waves that captured the multicolored glints, and her dress of leaves and blue flowers clung to her provocative curves, a hymn to the corrupted beauty she embodied. Her amber eyes, which held entire galaxies, were closed, her breathing slow and deep as her mind plunged into a dream that wasn't entirely a dream, but a fragmented memory of a time when she was nothing more than a Primordial Universe, a force of creation and destruction spanning eternity.

Darkness enveloped her like a shroud, but it wasn't an empty darkness—it was a dense, vibrant void, charged with the echoes of collapsing worlds and universes fading into the abyss of oblivion. Aurora floated in that infinite void, her form suspended among shards of broken realities, watching as entire galaxies extinguished like candles snuffed out by a cosmic wind. She had no defined shape then; she was an amorphous entity, a scattered consciousness that encompassed everything and nothing, a cog in the machinery of the multiverse that didn't understand its own purpose. Her mind, though conscious now, was immersed in a deep trance, as if she were part of something far greater than herself, a primordial force that knew neither love nor tenderness, only the eternal cycle of creation and destruction.

Suddenly, a light flickered in the distance, faint at first, like a firefly lost in the night, but it quickly grew until it illuminated the vast field of cosmic ruins. The light revealed a legion of figures advancing from the horizon, like an army of specters emerging from nothingness. They were gods, heroes, and transmigrators from various races, their armors glowing with a supernatural radiance, their faces etched with the scars of a thousand battles, all united under a single purpose: to confront the five beings of absolute power standing at the center of the battlefield, like pillars of darkness bearing the weight of destruction.

Aurora felt a shiver ripple through her essence as she observed the figures more closely. The gods and heroes wore armors forged from materials that defied comprehension—metals that seemed made of solidified light, leather that absorbed shadows, gems that held fragments of extinguished stars. Each radiated an aura that made the surrounding space tremble, their weapons—swords that sliced through the fabric of space, bows that fired arrows of pure light, wands that conjured spells of destruction—shimmering with a power that could rival the universes themselves. But it was a figure at the center of the battlefield that captured her attention, drawing her gaze like a magnet.

There, among the dark figures, stood Kaili, her Harbinger of the Plague, but in a far more imposing form than the one Aurora knew in the present. She was like a goddess of war descended from the heavens to lead the final battle, her presence so overwhelming that the very space around her seemed to bend. She wore black armor with golden and silver details that moved like living liquid, adapting to her every motion with a supernatural fluidity. The shoulder plates, shaped like extended wings, seemed to defy gravity, and her breastplate, adorned with ancient runes glowing with an ethereal light, appeared to contain the knowledge of forgotten eras. A translucent cape billowed behind her, defying the absence of wind, and her hand rested on the hilt of a sheathed sword made of condensed energy, its power visibly restrained, humming with potential. Her gaze, cold and calculating, assessed her enemies with icy disdain, like a predator sizing up its prey before the hunt, her dark eyes glinting with red sparks that promised annihilation.

Beside Kaili, four other figures remained shrouded in shadows, like specters awaiting their turn to join the dance of destruction. Aurora couldn't discern their bodies or faces, seeing only feminine silhouettes moving with a spectral grace, as if they were puppets controlled by invisible strings. Each radiated a thunderous aura, a presence that distorted the space around them, as if reality itself bent before their power. They were the other Thrones of Chaos, created by Aurora in her unconscious state as a Primordial Universe, guardians of her destructive will, beings whose existence was dedicated to sowing chaos and extinction in her name. They seemed to be waiting for something, like sentinels of a secret too vast to comprehend, a secret that would only be revealed at the moment of the final battle.

The air filled with palpable tension, like a bowstring about to snap, as the two forces prepared for battle. The gods, heroes, and transmigrators raised their weapons, their swords slicing through space with flashes of light, their bows firing arrows of pure energy, their wands conjuring spells that shook the void. They were ready to confront the five beings standing before them, to defy the fate imposed upon them. But before the first blow could be struck, the darkness closed in around them, like a curtain falling at the end of a play, and the scene vanished in an instant.

Aurora now found herself in a completely dark room, enveloped in a shadow so deep it seemed to absorb light itself. Only a magnificent throne at the far end emitted a faint glow, like a lone star in the night, barely illuminating the figure seated upon it. It was a woman, tall and majestic, with features Aurora immediately recognized: her own, but transformed—mature, refined, divine. It was like looking into a mirror of the future, a reflection of what she might become if she followed the path her cosmic nature dictated.

The future version of Aurora possessed an otherworldly beauty, like a goddess who had emerged from myths and legends. Her hair, silver as moonlight, flowed like a cascade of stars, and her eyes, the same color, with vertical pupils that glowed with overwhelming power, seemed capable of seeing through the soul. She wore a robe made of a luminous material that shifted colors depending on the angle from which it was viewed, like a cosmic chameleon adapting to the surrounding reality. On her head rested a crown of branching horns, emitting a faint pearlescent glow, as if they were the branches of a tree that had grown at the heart of the cosmos. Her voice, when she spoke, resonated like thunder, filling the room with its power.

"I see you've finally accepted death as part of your nature," the figure said, her tone a mix of satisfaction and disdain, as if death were a game to her. "It seems you're slowly realizing what you are. Kaili is already with you, and the other Thrones will soon awaken from their slumber. Become strong, spread chaos, destroy everything, sow fear. Only then will you reach your true potential."

The woman paused, leaning slightly forward, like a predator approaching its prey. Her silver eyes, cold and inquisitive, fixed on the young Aurora, as if evaluating her, searching for any sign of weakness. "I must admit, I'm disappointed in you—or rather, in myself," she continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "To think you'd stoop to keeping a pet in the form of a human." With a dismissive gesture, she pointed to a figure that appeared beside her, a vision of Sebastián, his face filled with concern as he looked at Aurora. "To think you've developed affection for him is nauseating. He's an obstacle in your path, a burden holding you back. Kill him. He's not like us. A lowly being, an insect like him, doesn't deserve to be in your presence."

The young Aurora felt an icy chill ripple through her essence, as if her future self's words were a poison seeping into her being. Images of Sebastián, her friend, her companion, the man who had been by her side for a hundred years, flooded her mind—his hands tending to the plants in the garden, his soft voice telling her stories while she hibernated, his warm smile that had always made her feel loved. Kill him? How could she even consider that? Her future self's words struck her like a hammer, shattering the image she had of herself. Was this her destiny—to become a monster who sought only destruction and chaos? To kill Sebastián, the only one who had accepted her as she was, the only one who had given her a home in this world?

"I can't," Aurora whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling as she looked at the figure on the throne. "I can't kill Sebastián. He's my friend… my family."

The future Aurora stared at her with coldness, as if she couldn't comprehend her words. "Family," she repeated, her tone mocking, cutting like a knife. "That's a word that has no place in our vocabulary. Family is for the weak, for those who need companionship to survive. We are superior beings, destined to rule, to destroy. We don't need family. We need only power."

"But Sebastián has helped me," Aurora insisted, her voice gaining a bit of strength as images of her time with him filled her mind—their shared laughter, their conversations on the second floor, the way he looked at her with affection, no matter who or what she was. "He's taken care of me, given me a home. He's important to me."

"Importance is an illusion," the Woman on the Throne replied, her voice icy as her silver eyes gleamed with a contempt that chilled the soul. "A concept created by the weak to justify their attachments. Don't let your emotions deceive you. Sebastián is an obstacle. An insect that must be crushed."

Aurora felt a sharp pain in her chest, as if her future self's words were daggers piercing her essence. But at the same time, she felt a growing resistance, a spark of defiance igniting within her, fueled by the love she felt for Sebastián, for Kaili, for the family she had built in this physical world she was still learning to understand. "I won't do it," she said firmly, lifting her gaze to meet the cold eyes of her future self, her voice trembling but filled with determination. "I won't kill Sebastián. And I won't become you. I'll find my own path, a path where power doesn't mean destruction, where strength doesn't mean cruelty."

The future Aurora looked at her with surprise, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. For a moment, a shadow of doubt flickered across her silver eyes, a crack in the mask of coldness she had built over the eons. But the doubt vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by an expression of disdain. "You're naive," she said with scorn, her voice echoing like thunder in the dark room. "You think you can defy your destiny, that you can escape what you are. But you're wrong. Darkness is in your essence, in your soul. Sooner or later, it will consume you, turn you into a weapon of destruction. You can't escape your nature."

"I don't understand," Aurora said, her voice trembling as tears filled her amber eyes, images of Sebastián and Kaili flashing through her mind—their laughter, their tender moments, the home they had built together. "I don't want to be like that. I don't want to kill Sebastián."

The Woman on the Throne looked at her with coldness, her silver eyes shimmering with a power that seemed infinite. "You have no choice," she replied, her tone sharp as a blade. "It's your nature. Darkness will consume you, turn you into a weapon of destruction."

Aurora shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as her voice broke, but her determination grew with every word. "I don't want to. There has to be another way. There has to be!"

"Don't be naive," the Woman on the Throne snapped, her tone as cold as a whip. "Power isn't gained through pleas. It's taken. And to take it, you must be willing to sacrifice everything."

Aurora looked at her with defiance, a spark of rebellion igniting within her, fueled by the love she felt for her family. "I won't sacrifice Sebastián," she said, her voice steady despite the tears falling from her eyes. "I won't sacrifice who I am."

The Woman on the Throne let out a cold laugh, a sound that echoed like a collapsing universe. "Then you're doomed to fail," she said with disdain, her figure rising on the throne, her luminous robe shifting colors like a reflection of the chaos she embodied. "The path to power is paved with the remains of the weak."

"We'll see," Aurora replied, her voice trembling but filled with a determination that surprised even herself. "I'll decide my own path."

The future Aurora watched her in silence for a long moment, her silver eyes evaluating her with an intensity that seemed to pierce her soul. Then, with a resigned sigh, she spoke, her voice a cold echo resonating in the void. "Do as you wish," she said, her tone dripping with disdain. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

With a final flash of silver light, the scene dissolved, leaving Aurora alone in the void. Her consciousness slowly returned to the present, her amber eyes snapping open as a gasp escaped her lips. She was back on the fourth floor of her dungeon, seated on her throne of bones, the glow of the gems illuminating her figure as her chest rose and fell with rapid, ragged breaths. Tears still shimmered on her cheeks, an echo of the pain she had felt in the dream, and her body trembled slightly, drained by the intensity of the nightmare. The black flowers adorning the throne seemed to wilt under her touch, their dark petals falling to the floor like a reflection of her own turmoil, a sign of how her emotional state resonated with the dungeon itself.

"I won't become that," Aurora whispered, her voice broken as her hands gripped the arms of the throne, sweat beading on her forehead as her breathing grew heavier. "I won't sacrifice my family… not Sebastián… not Kaili…" Her voice faded into a whisper, her amber eyes filled with tears as her body slumped slightly in the throne, exhausted, vulnerable, in desperate need of comfort. The echo of the nightmare still lingered in her mind, a reminder of the darkness lurking within her, but also of the determination she had found to face it—a determination that now left her drained, fragile, yet more resolved than ever to protect those she loved.