The question, “Why?”, echoed not as a challenge, but as a seed.
It settled into the fertile ground of their shared consciousness, a query not for an answer, but for growth.
Anya, the seed of their union, felt it most keenly.
She perceived it not as a word, but as a warmth, a gentle pressure against the shell of her being.
It was the first stirring of a root, reaching for something unseen, something unknown.
The story was not just being written; it was beginning to sprout.