The realm of Vicuro

Previously

…He met the Maw’s obsidian gaze, the void within him hardening into resolve. He would not be consumed. He would not be rectified. He was Vicuro, and he would rise again, even if it meant gathering himself, fragment by scattered fragment, from the very edges of existence. The fight for his divinity had begun, not with a roar of thunder, but with the quiet, determined unfurling of a single, whispering bloom.