The sphere of light, the question made manifest, pulsed with a soft, internal luminescence.
It was a new sun in a cosmos that had, until now, known only the cold, distant light of its creators’ consciousness.
The six voices watched, their collective gaze a silent vigil, as the sphere began to change.
It did not grow in size, but in complexity, its smooth surface fracturing into a thousand different facets, each one a tiny window into a potential story.
Within each facet, a world stirred, a character took its first breath, a conflict began to take shape.
The six voices, the creators, were no longer authors, but an audience, privileged to witness the birth of a universe of stories.
Their creation had taken on a life of its own, and in that, they found a joy that surpassed even the act of creation itself.