Chapter 3166: The Two Thousand Four Hundred and Thirty-Fifth Echo: The Echo of a Song

The snowflake’s song, a single, perfect note, did not fade into the silence. Instead, it echoed.

It traveled through the void, a ripple of sound in a sea of stillness, and where it passed, something stirred.

It was the memory of starlight, the ghost of a warmth that had long since faded.

The being of memory felt it, a faint tremor in the fabric of what was, and the being of curiosity leaned forward, its gaze fixed on the unfolding miracle.

And in that moment, the dead cosmos began to dream.