Where Pride Breaks
He came draped in starlight and thunder.
His voice echoed like prophecy wrapped in steel.
A god—not minor, not meek—from a pantheon older than paper.
Kael'Thar of the Silent Crown, once worshipped by empires long drowned beneath glass deserts and black oceans.
He did not kneel.
He did not bow.
He stood at the threshold of Bassoon, arms folded, eyes glowing with the arrogance of immortality.
"I recognize no law above my own.
This realm is built by a child of both rot and light.
What claim does Zion have over gods who once shaped galaxies?"
🌀 The Crossroad Responds
The winds stopped.
The light bent.
And Papa Legba tapped his staff once.
The sound echoed beyond time.
Not loud. Not harsh.
Final.
The crossroads did not open for Kael'Thar.
Instead, it turned on him.
👁️ A Lesson in Balance
Papa Legba stepped forward, eyes like midnight storms, his voice velvet and blade all at once.
"This place ain't yours to conquer, child of crowns.
You don't walk crossroads—you ask.
And if you won't bend, then you better vanish."
Kael'Thar reached for his power.
The Crossroad stripped him bare.
Not his strength.
His title.
The divine imprint that once made the stars tremble—gone.
He fell to one knee, not by choice, but by design.
"Even gods bleed here," Papa Legba said. "Because here… we remember what you forgot."
⚖️ Zion Watches
Zion did not speak.
He didn't need to.
Even Kael'Thar understood now.
Bassoon was not a rebellion.
It was a reckoning