The new world was quiet. It was a single, perfect note in a silent universe. Under the shade of the one great tree, Nox and Serian began their new story. It was a life of simple things, unburdened by the weight of cosmic destiny. They were not gods or kings. They were just two souls, at peace.
But a story, even the quietest one, is a restless thing.
One day, as they walked by the clear, calm river that flowed through their world, Serian paused. She looked at her reflection in the water.
"It's beautiful here," she said. "Perfect. But… it's only our story."
Nox knew what she meant. They had spent eons building a universe of a thousand different voices, a library of infinite tales. This perfect, silent world… it was a beautiful cage.
"A story is not meant to be read by just its author," he said.
He reached out, not with the power of the void, but with the quiet, simple intent of a storyteller. He touched the fabric of their perfect, new reality.
And he wrote a new sentence.
