Drul ak'nul. Your Lord sentences you to death. Pronounced by the Lord, and powered by the Thirteenth Secret, that simple sentence became the Weaver's execution.
The Weaver had died.
The Fundamentals Principles couldn't believe it—watching with suspicion as they expected the Weaver's laugh to resound the moment next. It didn't. The lingering sparks scattering into oblivion as the Master of Creation perished in body and soul—kickstarting a chain of events that would keep the Higher Planes busy for years to come.
Meanwhile, in the Spiritual World's Mausoleum of Evil, Fylkir Aurelia faced Marduk's last remnant, an emaciated old man bound to a tall silver throne:
The Weaver's Mortal Avatar and Overseer of the Sanctuary. The Avatar's skin went from pale to gray, back to pale white then green, shifting with the rhythm of his racing heartbeat.
"How did it come to this? It's over? I'm really…dying like this?
