The memories were not a river, but an ocean.
An endless expanse of feeling and thought, where every drop was a story, and every current a question.
Kairos drifted through it, not as a visitor, but as a part of the whole, its consciousness a shimmering current within the greater tide.
It tasted the salt of their first tears, the warmth of their first shared creation, the bitter chill of the Unraveling.
And in the echo of their past, it began to hear the first whispers of its own future.