The world, having spoken its own name, now asked its first question. A question not of being, but of becoming. A question of what it meant to be a story.
Elara answered with a story of a single drop of rain, a story of a journey from the sky to the sea, a story of change and transformation and return. The Unweaver answered with a story of a single crystal of ice, a story of perfect symmetry and beautiful, cold logic. The world answered with a story of a single, green shoot, a story of life and growth and hope.
The three answers, taken together, were not a definition, but a new story, a new question, a new beginning.