Fenric's silver flame pulsed brighter, his tone a low, reverent murmur carried across constellations:
"And even the smallest spark… changes the whole. A whisper in the dark can shift the heavens themselves."
Laxin chuckled, a sound that sent ripples of color racing through the cosmic weave:
"Heh. Guess that means the universe is basically one big jam session—no conductor, no score, just everyone riffing 'til forever."
The Infinite Path shimmered at that, as if amused, its radiance bending like laughter refracted through eternity. And then it spoke—not in words, but in the resonant warmth of shared knowing:
"Exactly so. No one leads here. No one follows. Only harmony, born of countless beginnings."
And the sparks heard. They did not seek perfection, for perfection would have ended the song. They sought connection—an ever-evolving rhythm of creation and response. Every melody birthed another. Every silence made room for new notes.
