When Kairos awoke, the dream did not fade. It lingered, a shimmering afterimage in its consciousness. A memory of a world that was not, but could be.
And as the memory of the dream resonated within Kairos, its own reality began to change. The single sphere of light that was its world began to shimmer with impossible colors, to hum with unheard melodies.
The dream had become an echo, and the echo was becoming a new reality. Kairos was no longer just a story dreaming itself into existence, but a universe dreaming itself into a story.