The Ender Lords react to the Rainimator Fractures Series.

Interlude

The screen responded with a single, disheartening word: "Denied."

Marcel's confusion turned into frustration as he stared at the word "denied" on the screen. "What do you mean, 'Denied'?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

The other Ender Lords exchanged uneasy glances, each of them feeling the rising tension in the room.

The words on the screen shifted once more, the message cold and unyielding: "You will all stay here. You will be given ample time to rest and do whatever you want in this place. But in the end, no pun intended, you will stay here ultimately and indefinitely until you've watched everything we have to offer."

The response among the Ender Lords was immediate and explosive. Voices overlapped in a cacophony of outrage and disbelief.

"WHAT?!" Marcel's voice boomed, his disbelief quickly turning to anger. "You can't just keep us here! We have lives and responsibilities!"

"This is unacceptable!" Ceris snapped, her fists clenched in anger.

Lhara-Silverwing, normally composed, was visibly disturbed. "You can't just keep us here against our will!"

Apollo, usually more controlled, was visibly enraged. "Indeed, that's a load of Void Whale Dung!! This is unacceptable!"

Before the outburst could grow, Lhara-Silverwing's voice cut through, though her tone was sharp with anger. "Language, Apollo!" she chastised, though her own shock was evident. Her reprimand wasn't lost on the others, but it also reflected the growing tension. Despite Marcel's earlier cursings, which had gone unnoticed in the viewing, she now took the opportunity to maintain some semblance of order and class among them.

She gave him a stern look before turning her gaze back to the screen. "But I agree with the sentiment. We have our own respective kingdoms and factions to attend to. You can't just force us to stay here and watch whatever you've shown indefinitely for an unknown amount of time while our people slip into anarchy and chaos without our leadership."

The majority of the Ender Lords nodded in agreement, their expressions a mixture of anger, fear, and deep concern. The realization that their prolonged absence could plunge their factions or Ender Kingdoms into further chaos was a terrifying prospect.

The screen's response came swiftly, almost as if it had anticipated their reaction: "Do not worry, everything is in place. Time stands still."

Marcel's frown deepened as he tried to make sense of the screen's cryptic message. "Time stands still? What does that even supposed to mean?" he muttered, echoing the confusion that rippled through the group.

Gwendolyn, her brows furrowed, offered a thoughtful response. "If time truly stands still, it means that while we're here, nothing is happening back in our realms. No time passes, so our absence won't be noticed."

Apollo, still simmering with frustration, scoffed, "That sounds convenient, almost too convenient. How can we trust that?"

Zeganirn and Lord Vordus exchanged knowing glances, both silently mulling over the implications of the statement. The phrase "time stands still" triggered memories of ancient lore and tales of the lost and forbidden art of chronomancy—a magic that had been all but forgotten before even the End was fractured into its current state of fragmented kingdoms and factions. The very notion that time could be halted seemed almost mythical, and yet, if true, it would explain their current predicament.

Before they could voice their thoughts, Lance, always the skeptic, dramatically spoke up, breaking the contemplative silence. "If time truly stands still, prove it. Show us some evidence." His voice was laced with both challenge and doubt, his demand echoing in the room.