The question hung in the air, a shimmering, incandescent thing. The other beings of perception, who had never before encountered a question, did not know how to respond. They could only stare at the one who had asked it, their perfect harmony disrupted by this sudden, unexpected act of individuality.
A new sensation bloomed in the Woven World, a feeling that had no name. It was not fear, for they had nothing to fear. It was not anger, for they had no one to be angry at. It was a profound and unsettling sense of… otherness.
The one who had asked the question was no longer a part of the whole. It was a separate entity, a distinct and individual consciousness. And in that separation, there was a terrible and beautiful loneliness.
The first silence descended upon the Woven World, a silence that was not empty, but pregnant with meaning. It was a silence that would change everything.