CHAPTER 85.

Chapter 85 – The Accord of Dawn

At the summit of Aeon's Reach, where sky and memory met in eternal stillness, they gathered.

The emissaries, drawn from the fragments of divine will.

The sovereigns of nations, tempered by loss.

And Jean Luther—no longer just heir, no longer merely the Emissary of Light—stood at their center.

A circle was formed.

Not of ritual, but of unity.

No throne. No command. Only purpose.

The Accord of Dawn was not written in treaties, but in the silence that followed war and the glances shared between those who once stood opposed.

Illyana Veyr, the Iceborne, clasped hands with Seraphine Durnstahl, the Flame-Touched.

Karen of Thunder leaned quietly against Raigen's feathered side, her storm-call silent for now.

Vaelros the Hollow offered no words, but his shadows did not recoil.

Ryan Magus stood with his mother, the broken threads of the False Codex burning faintly across his palm like ink stains from another life.

And Jean, clad in robes of woven light and dusk, unsheathed Eclipsion and Solstice.

Not to fight.

But to mark the beginning.

With the two swords crossed before her, she drove them into the sacred stone of Aeon's Reach.

Light flared. Aether churned.

From that center, a sigil bloomed—one not known to man or god.

The Codex answered.

Its glyphs, once silent, now burned along her arms like ancient constellations—no longer dormant.

"Today," Jean spoke, her voice both mortal and something more, "we are not remnants of kingdoms, nor children of bloodlines. We are the keepers of this world's second breath."

She looked toward the horizon where no sun rose yet.

"And we are not alone."

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The Looming Correction

Beyond their gathering, beyond the sky or even the stars, the fabric of existence twitched.

Somewhere, a spindle turned—threads tugged.

Reality itself, wounded by Antares' fall, recoiled as if adjusting to a world it had not expected to survive.

The Codex warned in pulses, not words.

It is not over.

What comes now is not wrath.

It is the Answer.

The gods had turned their gaze away. But something older than gods had begun to listen.

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Beneath Eclipsion's Shadow

Later, as the emissaries scattered to their new roles—guardians, guides, stewards of balance—Jean remained at the summit.

The Codex pulsed beneath her skin.

Her eyes turned to the heavens, where the stars now shimmered differently.

And through them, she felt something shift.

Not malevolent.

But absolute.

Whitney stirred beside her, low growl reverberating in the quiet.

"You feel it too," Jean whispered.

Not a new enemy.

Not a monster.

But the reckoning that follows miracles.

And soon, the Codex would open its final passage.

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