In the time when existence still questioned its own validity, when the boundaries between possible and impossible remained undrawn, there lived a Fold Dweller who possessed nothing of what would later be considered power.
No Living Existential Authority flowed through his veins. No Glyphs adorned his form. He was, by every measure that would come to matter, insignificant.
Yet he possessed eyes that saw.
Not metaphorically, not spiritually, but literally…eyes that perceived what should have been imperceptible, that noticed what preferred to remain unnoticed.
It was these eyes that allowed him to witness something that should have been impossible… THE Living Spirit, moving through the Earliest Folds like thought given purpose.
THE Living Spirit paused in its journey, its form…if form it could be called, rippling with surprise that transcended simple emotion. To be observed by a Fold Dweller, a being without even the smallest spark of authority…
