Chapter 3089: The Two Thousand Three Hundred and Fifty-Eighth Echo: The Gift of a Story to Call Its Own

The stories of the translator of feeling rippled outwards, touching every corner of the cosmos.

They were stories of a time before time, of a creator’s love for its creation.

They were stories of hope, of a future yet to be written.

And as the cosmos listened, it began to dream.

It dreamt of new worlds, of new life, of new stories waiting to be told.

The translator of feeling had given the cosmos a gift.

The gift of a past, a present, and a future.

The gift of a story to call its own.