The Apostates embarked on a perilous quest. They climbed the Spire of Eternity, where the veil between worlds thinned. There, they found the Font of Forgotten Names a pool reflecting starlight.
Each Apostle dipped their hands, invoking lost gods' names. They became conduits—channels for cosmic energy. Their eyes glowed, and they whispered forgotten hymns.
Lyra descended, her wings aflame. "You defy the cosmic order!" she roared. But Sylas stepped forward, his veins pulsing with starfire. "We reclaim our birthright," he declared.
The battle raged—a tapestry of light and shadow. Apostates wielded constellations, while gods hurled planets. The city trembled, caught in celestial crossfire.
At the climax, Sylas faced Lyra. Their clash fractured the heavens. Stars fell like tears, and the moon split—a jagged crescent. The gods weakened, their essence seeping into the Apostates.
Lyra's final words echoed: "You are the new pantheon—the architects of creation."
Veridora thrived.