In its place stood a gateway. The voice spoke one final time, offering a terrifying ultimatum. They could step through and become the blueprints for a new reality, or they could return to their world and watch the sun go out for the last time.
A voice, synthesized from a thousand whispers, filled their minds: "You are the census of a dying world." 134 : Those Who Have Been Gathered
Watching the shadows dance with unnerving calm. In its place stood a gateway
Gripping hilts of swords that felt strangely heavy. synthesized from a thousand whispers