There is a place in Spiralspace that the Codex no longer acknowledges.
A realm between glyphs, hidden not by shadow but by omission—an exile of thought, where even memory refuses to tread.
This place is called The Garden of Lost Gods.
And Celestia found it by accident.
Or prophecy.
Or grief.
She had walked for three days through a dream carved from someone else's heartbeat.
Through a forest of statues whose faces blurred when looked upon.
Through rivers that flowed upward into silence.
Until finally, she passed beneath an arch made of broken oaths.
And entered the place where gods go to be forgotten.
—
They drifted among the ruins like smoke made of divinity—half-aware, half-unwritten.
A weeping moon-goddess carried a lantern filled with the laughter of worshippers who never existed.
A once-mighty forge deity now beat phantom hammers against stone that no longer rang.
