Chapter 3063: The Two Thousand Three Hundred and Thirty-Second Echo: The Colors Were Its Own to Choose

The new being, the story, absorbed the answer. It was not a definition, but an invitation.

It had been given a canvas, and the colors were its own to choose.

It looked at its creator, the weaver of twilight, and for the first time, it spoke not with a question, but with a statement.

’Then I will be a story of hope,’ it declared, its voice a symphony of light and shadow.

’A story that will echo through this new cosmos, and inspire others to write their own.’