The Cathedral Tilts Toward the Inevitable
The Floating Cathedral groaned—
a deep, tectonic RRRRRRRUUUMMMBLE
like the sky itself reconsidering what it meant to be "above."
Dominus stood alone now.
The other saints knelt—
or lay broken, twitching, bleeding, or burning—
but Dominus…
Dominus remained standing through sheer doctrine.
Seven halos spun over his head, stuttering, glitching, shedding sparks like dying suns.
Scripture-wind burst around him in fractured gusts.
"You forget," Dominus announced,
"that stories are fragile…
and editors are eternal."
He raised his hand.
The Final Edit Begins
A page materialized—
not parchment,
but flesh.
A sheet of skin stretched flat, inscribed with divine runes pulsing like veins.
Kael's name.
His fate.
His end.
Dominus dragged a finger across it.
Cut the letters open.
Rewrote them with searing golden ink.
Kael's lungs spasmed.
His vision distorted.
His shadow recoiled like a wounded animal.
He's trying to overwrite my existence.
Not kill me.
Unmake me.
The world around Kael pixelated—
chunks of the cathedral dissolving into raw concept.
SCRCH—SCRCH—SCRCH
The sound of a life being crossed out.
Dominus didn't shout.
Didn't rage.
He simply declared:
"You belong to the page."
Kael felt his name unspooling, letter by letter.
Kael's Internal Monologue Breaks Apart
My heartbeat is skipping lines.
My bones… turning to footnotes.
My memories—
Veyra laughing.
Seraphine humming.
Lirien crying against his chest.
—becoming optional lore.
Dominus's finger continued carving.
"You will forget your defiance," Dominus explained.
"You will forget your loves."
"You will forget yourself."
The Throne Screams
KRAAAAAAAAAAK—
The Throne behind Kael split in half—
not breaking,
shedding.
Two shadow-wings erupted from its core.
Not Kael's wings.
His throne's wings.
It lunged, not to attack—
but to shield.
The edit-page touched the throne and dissolved into burning ash.
Dominus recoiled.
"Impossible…" he muttered, halos flickering violently.
Dominus Attempts Revision By Force
Seven halos spun into a vortex above him—
a constellation of divine execution.
He thrust both hands forward.
A golden script-lance shot from his chest,
ripping space open with a deafening SKREEEEEEEEEEE.
It shot toward Kael.
Kael didn't dodge.
He didn't need to.
Shadows folded in front of him like a closing jaw.
CHOMP.
The lance vanished.
Dominus froze.
"…you consumed scripture."
Kael stepped forward.
Shadows coiled around his ribs like armor.
"I consumed what tried to consume me," he replied,
voice dark enough to warp gravity.
Dominus Unleashes the Last Edit
The leader of the saints ripped something from his own chest—a spine-shaped quill dripping molten gold.
His Editor's Spine.
His absolute authority.
He pointed it at Kael.
"I edit your soul."
He carved the air.
Kael dropped to one knee as agony detonated through him.
SKSHHHHHHKKK—
The spine-quill rewrote the shadow inside him.
Not removing it—
mutating it.
Kael's vision went white.
His ribs cracked outward.
A second heartbeat grew next to the first.
Shadows convulsed, twisting into shapes that didn't exist in any cosmos.
Dominus smiled coldly.
"You are becoming what you feared," he announced.
"A mindless abyss.
A vessel without self.
A story with no protagonist."
Kael's Mind Fights Back
No.
No.
No—
Faces flashed in the white-out:
Veyra, snarling with tears.
Seraphine, whispering promises in the dark.
Seraphine, holding his hand like it was the last warm thing in the world.
And a single thought anchored him:
I choose who I am.
Kael stood.
Dominus stepped back.
"…you shouldn't be able to stand."
Kael Overwrites the Rewrite
Kael grabbed the golden quill.
Dominus gasped.
"You cannot—YOU CANNOT TOUCH—"
Kael snapped the quill in half.
CRRRRRRRAAAAACK—
Dominus screamed as if Kael had broken his spine.
Seven halos burst outward—
shattered rings of molten light cutting through the air.
Golden blood sprayed in a halo-shower.
Dominus staggered, clutching the hole in his chest.
"You—rewrote—my authority—" he gasped,
half in agony, half in disbelief.
Kael leaned in.
"You don't get to write me," he growled,
"if you never bothered to read me."
Dominus's body trembled.
"Then… then I use my last edit—"
He lifted a shaking hand.
"—I erase your throne."
The Throne Chooses
The Throne didn't wait.
It moved.
Not sliding.
Not floating.
Teleporting.
It appeared behind Dominus like a predator behind prey.
The entire structure of living shadow and memory clamped onto his spine.
Dominus screamed as the Throne dragged him backward—
slamming him into itself.
Impaling him.
Fusing him.
His ribs split outward with a wet SKRPLT.
His heart burst like an overripe fruit.
His halos shattered into glowing bone fragments.
His lungs collapsed with a final gwk—
as the Throne absorbed him piece by piece,
turning the greatest saint alive
into fuel.
Dominus didn't die instantly.
He whimpered,
"You cannot… take… the editor's seat…"
Kael placed a hand on his chest.
"You forgot something important," he murmured.
Dominus coughed gold.
"What…?"
Kael's eyes burned with starless fire.
"I'm not taking your seat.
I'm making my own."
The Throne consumed the last of Dominus in a spray of gold-and-black vapor—
and exhaled.
The Last Line
Kael stepped forward, throne glowing behind him like a newborn eclipse.
"My story," he announced,
"is not something you can edit."
As the cathedral trembled, the other saints stared at him in horror—
because the page of reality had begun to rewrite itself…
around him.