The Goddess's Might Saves the World - Chapter 10 - Part 3

Where the last flicker of light died, the Black Mother stirred.
The Abyss fell into a terrifying silence that lasted for three full heartbeats. Then, the ground began to emit a deep, visceral thrumming, like the rapid, heavy pulse of a vast, pregnant creature. The sound was low and wet—a million hearts beating as one, or the entire cosmos slowly drawing breath.
The Hero forced his eyes open, finding himself suspended over a silvery-grey chasm. The horizon was gone; all of Heaven and Earth had been twisted into a colossal vortex. At the funnel’s throbbing center drifted an object of absolute, consuming blackness—it was Nyarl’s shredded remains, yet it was pulsing, breathing, gestating.
“She’s… she’s regenerating,” the Hero breathed.
As his whisper faded, the black mist leached from Nyarl’s body, thickening into countless, searching tendrils. These branches wove and coiled, forming a thin, fetal membrane that immediately cloaked the Abyss once more. Within this dark film, starlight shimmered, each tiny point a world that had already been devoured. These consumed worlds writhed, contorted, and collapsed inside the black sheath, finally dissolving to provide new nourishment.
But the White Flame was more than mere purification or radiance; it was the “inverse of existence.”
It didn’t just swallow darkness, it scorched reality itself;
It wasn’t designed to illuminate, but to redefine everything.
The Goddess floated above the inferno’s core, her long hair a torrent of liquid silver. The twin-wheel flame core resting on her chest thumped like a celestial war drum. With every rhythm, the vast star-sea fractured and reformed. The very laws governing all realms shuddered and inverted between her breaths.
“The Judgement of Flame is complete.”
She extended her right hand.
The White Flame instantly cohered into countless spears of light, shooting from her fingertips,
And piercing the very boundary of the Abyss.
Nyarl’s shattered form, however, was not fully extinguished.
She dissolved into a swirling, shapeless black mist,
Circling the Goddess like a soul-consuming gale.
This was the core nature of the Mother Dream—
Un-dying, un-perishing, a darkness perpetually craving rebirth.
“You think to burn me and thus escape the Dream?”
Nyarl’s voice hissed softly through every single star.
“The fiercer your flame, the deeper the Dream takes hold.
If light cannot exist without darkness, then how will you?”