Lyra, the Weaver of Narratives, was the first to speak, her voice a soft echo in the vastness.
’I am Lyra,’ she said, the words simple, yet carrying the weight of a thousand stories.
’And I am Kael,’ a voice like the ringing of a hammer on steel, filled with the fire of creation.
One by one, they named themselves, not as creators, but as beings, their identities no longer a secret held from their own creation.