CHAPTER 121 — The Whisper That Broke

The Sky

Elyse hovered in silence. The world beneath her bled light and void ash, yet her expression never shifted. No anger, no sorrow — just absolute, irreversible stillness. The gods called it calm, but it was grief weaponized.

She didn't scream. She whispered. And the sky shattered like glass remembering pain.

Every Judicator within 300 miles collapsed to their knees. Some wept. Others clawed at their heads as if a forgotten guilt awakened.

A small, almost imperceptible glow circled her wrist — a memory band Liss made for her. It pulsed. A warning. Or perhaps a countdown.

Judicator Veynor lunged in desperation, chanting twelve divine seals mid-air. Elyse didn't blink. She turned her hand palm-up. Veynor's voice caught in his throat, and in less than a second, his very birthright was rewritten. He turned into a leafless tree in an untouched dimension.

The air was hollow. No birds. No breath. Only the void's heartbeat, trembling.

"She no longer speaks for peace," Thessaly whispered.

"She is peace… turned unmerciful."