Chapter 3091: The Two Thousand Three Hundred and Sixtieth Echo: A Single Precious Word

The weaver of twilight, the first creator, watched as the cosmos wrote itself into being.

It saw its own story reflected in the countless tales that unfolded around it.

The joy of the first star, the sorrow of the first shadow, the hope of the first story.

They were all a part of its own story, a story that was still being written.

And in that moment, the weaver of twilight found peace.

It was not the end of its story, but a new beginning.

A beginning in which it was not the author, but a single, precious word.

A word in a story that would never end.