The Archivist that had never made any choice at all stood like a monument to indecision, its form a disturbing absence that hurt to perceive directly. Unlike the fragments or the council members, this entity existed in a state of perfect neutrality—every possible action it could have taken suspended in eternal equilibrium.
"Running will solve nothing," it said, its voice carrying the weight of infinite postponed decisions. "The cascade has reached its inevitable conclusion. Reality itself has become unstable because too many editors seek to revise the same manuscript."
Behind them, the shattered remains of the Blank Council continued their chaotic debate as infinite versions of the Originless materialized from discarded possibilities. The air itself groaned under the pressure of competing realities, each one demanding recognition, each one insisting it held the correct interpretation of existence.
