The figure's head tilted down, looking at Damian's frozen face standing before it.
Then it spoke, the voice carrying something that might have been amusement.
"Survive?"
The word hung in the frozen air.
"You're asking the wrong question, Fate."
The voice grew stronger despite the figure's weakened state.
"The question isn't whether he can survive what's coming. The question is…"
Another pause, loaded with meaning.
"Whether the universe can survive him."
Silence fell between the figure and the barely-visible threads in the sky.
Then the figure's head tilted back up, looking at where Fate's presence lingered.
"But for you to ask me that question, despite everything that just happened..."
The voice dropped lower.
"It seems like you still have your last move to play before our game ends today."
The weak chuckling sound emerged from the fading threads, distorted and strained.
"No, I really can't do anything now. You've made sure of that."
The threads pulsed faintly.
