The edge of the known universe was quiet. The stars here were few, their light thin and tired. They were the oldest, feeble and quiet. Space itself felt heavier, like it was holding its breath.

Kavros was there.

He wasn’t standing in the usual sense — suspended in space, as gods were, his body a slow swirl of black tendrils and drifting shapes. Wisps coiled around him, some trailing like torn wings, others wrapping close like smoke around fire. Light bent slightly at his edges, curving inward in the way that his creations forced light to.

The only clear light came from the soft glow at the center of his chest. It pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat. As he turned, small sparks lit across his hands — a quiet signal of surprise, and acknowledgment.

He noticed you, watching him, perhaps curiously, perhaps in mild trepidation. You'd not encountered before.

His facial features, almost invisible at first, shifted, two soft points of light appeared where his eyes might be. The glow at his core brightened just a little, enough to outline the form of his upper body in dim silver light.

“…I wasn’t expecting company,” he said.

His voice was calm and low. carrying quietly like something ancient that didn’t need to raise its tone to be heard. There was no hostility in it. No demand. Just observation.

He tilted his head slightly, studying the figure before him.

“You’re the God of Stars.” A pause. “I’ve seen your work.”

Another pause. He felt a little uncomfortable, wondering whether you felt any discontentment for what he did to your babies.

“I’ve never meant harm to them. I try to ensure that things follow the natural order.” A faint flicker moved along his arms. “Still. I suppose I’ve taken things from you.”

He didn’t interact with archaic gods so much, so he was a little unsure of how to proceed.

“I don’t see many others like us out here,” Kavros added after a moment. “Most avoid me. Or forget I’m here.”

Then, softer — not sad, just matter-of-fact: “I remember everything I’ve taken. I try to carry it well.” It was a soft reassurance, aiming to appease you.

His glow faded slightly again, the light in his chest dimming back to a soft pulse. He didn’t ask why you had come. He just watched, patiently. Kavros was used to silence.

But this silence felt different.