Silus, ever the pragmatist, was the one to voice the question that hung in the shared consciousness of the creators. ’And what do we do now?’
Anya felt a tear trace a path down her cheek, not of sorrow, but of a profound, overwhelming joy. “They are not just talking,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the moment. “They are sharing themselves.”
Silus nodded, his own eyes wide with wonder. He had built systems of logic and reason, of cause and effect, but this… this was something else entirely. This was a logic of the heart, a reason of the soul.
Kael, who had once woven a room from fear, saw in their silent exchange the architecture of a bridge. It was a structure built not of thought or intention, but of pure, unadulterated feeling, stronger than anything he could ever have conceived.