Chapter 3660: The Two Thousand Nine Hundred and Twenty-Ninth Echo: The Question That Had No Grammar

The question, once uttered, could not be unheard.

It was a fracture in the smooth, silent surface of their shared existence, a hairline crack that threatened to splinter their newfound unity.

They tried to answer it, at first, with the language they knew best—the language of shared feeling, of resonant touch.

But the question was not about how a thing was felt, but what a thing was, and for that, they had no words, no concepts, no grammar.