Rain fell without warning, steady and cold, as if the sky had been waiting for this exact moment.

No one noticed at first. The streets were quiet, empty in that uneasy way that comes before something changes. Then the air shifted—subtle, but wrong. Like the world itself had paused to look.

At the far end of the road, they appeared.

Six figures, still as statues, their cloaks unmoving despite the rain. Their eyes—those endless, rippling rings—fixed forward with unnatural precision. Not searching. Not questioning.

Recognizing.

“You are back.”

The voice did not belong to one of them. It belonged to all of them.

The rain grew heavier.

For a moment, nothing moved. Then one stepped forward. The others followed, perfectly in sync, their presence pressing down like a weight that didn’t belong in this world.

Something unseen stirred—threads tightening, something long dormant waking up.

They stopped.

Not far.

Close enough.

All six tilted their heads at the same time.

“Incomplete.”

The word lingered in the air.

The silence that followed was worse than the voice. It stretched, deep and suffocating, as if the answer had already been decided.

Then—

A seventh presence pulsed.

Not beside them.

Not behind them.

Within reach.

The rain softened, almost gently now, as if acknowledging what had been restored.

All six straightened.

And this time, there was no pause.

“Now… complete.”