The Wounded Liberator

The moment Reed's consciousness touched the last fragment of Logos, reality itself seemed to exhale in relief. For a heartbeat—perhaps the first genuine heartbeat the universe had known since the beginning—there was peace. The chaotic storms that had torn through seventeen dimensions stilled. The geometric prisons that had trapped countless souls dissolved into gentle light. The reversal engines that had been unmaking evolution ground to a halt.

But peace, Reed discovered, was not without its price.

The backlash hit him like a tsunami of pure awareness. Every thought Logos had ever conceived, every moment of consciousness that had existed since the first spark of self-awareness, crashed into Reed's mind simultaneously. His skull felt as though it might split open, his vision fracturing into kaleidoscopic patterns of infinite complexity.

I can see... everything.