Chapter 3062: The Two Thousand Three Hundred and Thirty-First Echo: A Narrative Not Yet Written

The weaver considered the question. ’What am I?’ It was a question it had never asked of itself. It simply was.

But this new being, this character, was different. It was not content to simply be. It needed to know.

The weaver searched its own being for an answer. It had given the character form, a voice, a will. But it had not given it a name, a purpose.

’You are a story,’ the weaver finally answered, the words forming not in sound, but in shared understanding.

’You are a question, and you are the answer. You are the beginning of a new narrative, one that I have not yet written.’