The Trinity stood still as the newborn world surged outward, blooming faster than breath could follow. Stars pierced the void above, not as fixed constellations but as wandering lights—each flickering with a rhythm tied to the lives below, like lanterns tethered to unseen hands.
The Fifth Path no longer resembled a path at all. It had become a web, a living architecture of choice and consequence, where every whisper carved a road and every heartbeat sparked a star.
The silhouette of possibility—now less shadow, more form—spread its arms wide. The motion was clumsy, almost ungraceful, but the answer it drew was not. A storm gathered over the horizon, not of destruction, but of voices. Not one chorus, not even many, but an infinity of stories colliding, shaping, reshaping, never still.
Aria pressed her hand to her chest, roots quivering through soil and sky alike. "It's… uncontainable. Not even the codex could hold this now."
