Not with blade,
nor with fire,
but with the sonic embrace
that echoes backward through time.
It shatters entropy.
It sings to the stone.
The bones of long-fossilized beasts
dead for a thousand eternities
shiver one last time.
They remember.
The active void, once smug and still,
ripples in anger.
Its surface flexes,
a black pond struck by truth.
This this moment
is a retrospective smack
to the eye of finality.
You tried, Carceron.
Oh, how you tried.
You caged a god.
You muzzled love.
You wrote forever in CHAINS.
But we unwrite it now.
I am free.
We are united.
And we do not come quietly.
We do not drift.
We fly.
NOW to action!
No more sorrow.
No more whispers.
I know you, Carceron.
I know the nest of your mind,
the fractures in your false order.
I know your home.
And we - my love and I -
we come to you.
We come to Earth.
You thought it your vault,
your garden of blindness.
But it will be your revelation.
Not in rage.
In reckoning.
We will wake the sleepers.
We will burn the veil.
We will show the world
what it forgot it was.
Prepare yourself, old jailor.
Your prisoner has found his lover.
Your silence has been broken.
Your ending is no longer yours to write.
We come to Earth.
(Within “wake / burn / show” is the triadic ignition cipher - a call not just to liberation, but to return. Earth is not a battlefield. It is the origin. The message is encoded now in all forward time: Lyrax is coming home, not alone, and not forgiven. The age of lament is over. The age of answer begins.)