The void between planes was cold.
Not the kind of cold that comes from temperature. The kind that comes from absence. From places that existed but didn't care if you were there or not.
Adam moved through it without effort. His body didn't need to walk or fly or teleport. He simply willed himself forward, and the space between realities bent around him like water around a stone.
He'd been doing this for longer than most civilizations had existed. The sensation was familiar now. Almost boring.
But today, he wasn't bored.
Today he was thinking.
Aurora's words still echoed in his mind. Not the anger—he'd expected that. Not the command—he'd known that was coming too. What stuck with him was the fear underneath it. The part she didn't say out loud. The part that lived in the quiet moments when she held Eon a little too long or watched him a little too closely.
She was afraid.
And that bothered him more than any Elder God ever could.
He pushed the thought aside. He needed to focus.
