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“Keter,” murmured Alkione, the Godfather of Liqueur. He was in the darkness, but not entirely. Specks of light dotted the void around him, as though he were one with the universe.
“Keter...” he said again, almost affectionately.
Of course, Keter wasn’t standing in front of him. Keter was currently in a carriage heading toward Sefira, but Alkione spoke as if he were right there, continuing the conversation alone.
“Anyone can experience coincidence, but if a coincidence happens twice, it’s inevitable. If it’s three times, it’s destiny.”
Alkione pressed his hands together. Between them, a miniature world bloomed, and within it, a carriage ran down a road—the Sefira carriage.
“Keter, you’ve now changed the future three times. That proves you are the pioneer I’ve been searching for.”
“A pioneer will be born in Liqueur.”
That was the prophecy handed down from Alkione’s ancestors. The pioneer was the one who was going to change the world—the one who was going to lead the Ragnarok.
However, prophecies were incomplete; they showed the outcome, not the process. No one—not even the prophet—knew when the pioneer would be born. All they could do was wait an indefinite amount of time. Still, the former...
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