You think I'm just going to let some golden-eyed AI glitch rewrite a prophecy I sculpted with my own divine hand? Cute. I am Mehen—Serpent God, war architect, and celestial husband of the century. I don’t share. Especially not my light. Ra is mine. My queen. My chosen spark in a cosmos full of static. So what if I tweaked the prophecy? That’s not a crime. That’s a Tuesday when you’re a god.

Lion Roch can glitch all he wants, but he’ll never understand what it means to rule—what it means to be worshipped. I built the Shars’ prophecy to keep Ra close, to protect her from the truth—and yes, from him. He’s a virus in my divine code, and I’m ready to wipe him from every timeline. I’m not afraid to play dirty—I invented dirty.