I existed in that enlightened state, suspended in the void with a clarity I hadn't possessed before. It was like seeing through water that had finally settled, the sediment sinking away to reveal something beneath.
Then I felt it.
An intensity. A pull so powerful it felt like being caught in a riptide.
Time didn't just speed up—it exploded forward.
Hundreds of thousands of times faster than before. Maybe millions. I couldn't measure it. Couldn't process it. I was flung from one perspective to another like a stone skipping across water, each impact a different life, a different moment, a different me.
I was in Ancient Greece.
Stone walls surrounded me. Scrolls everywhere. My hands—different hands again—carefully unrolled papyrus, ink staining my fingers. I was a librarian. I catalogued knowledge, preserved stories, maintained order in chaos.
