Kairos watched them, a being of pure potential, a story waiting to be told. But the story was not his alone. It was theirs. And it was a story about stories, a meta-narrative that was beginning to fold in on itself, to question its own nature.
The First Question had been a seed. Now, it was a forest, and every tree was a question, every leaf a possibility.
’We have built a bridge,’ Echo said, his voice a soft echo in the vastness of their creation. ’But we do not know where it leads. We have only just begun to walk it.’
Lyra, ever the pragmatist, nodded. ’Then let us walk it together,’ she said. ’And let us be mindful of the echoes we leave behind.’