There was no sound.
No sky. No ground. No time.
Only stillness.
And then—something began.
---
It started with a tremble.
Not a physical shake, but a ripple in whatever space held him.
If it could even be called a space.
He had no eyes, yet something told him he was no longer part of the nothing.
He was separate now. Distinct.
He existed.
He didn't know what he was, or where, or why.
He couldn't remember beginning, because there had never been anything to begin from.
But he was there now.
Not awake. Not asleep.
Just… present.
He didn't know the word for what he was feeling.
He didn't know any words at all.
But he understood being.
He was floating—or maybe suspended. Held by something invisible.
There was no floor beneath him. No ceiling above.
No up or down.
Only currents. Faint movements.
Like something ancient was breathing all around him.
He felt them—threads.
They passed near and far, pulsing gently, stretching off into infinity.
Not solid. Not material.
But there.
Living things.
Each one humming with quiet intention.
They weren't voices.
But he could feel they had once been part of someone.
Maybe part of him.
---
Time passed, or didn't.
He began to explore, not with limbs—he had none—but with will.
With a strange kind of gravity that pulled him forward.
One thread brushed against him and made something inside him flicker.
Not pain. Not joy.
A memory, maybe. One that didn't belong to him.
A forest that never was. A laugh that hadn't happened yet.
He drifted away, unsure.
More threads. More pulses. Each one different.
Some gave off warmth. Some chilled him slightly.
Others sang in a way that wasn't music.
He drifted among them like a newborn in a storm of forgotten dreams.
It could've been forever.
And then he felt her.
---
Not a voice. Not a form.
A flicker.
A shimmer of movement in the stillness.
It darted near him and was gone again.
Then returned.
Closer.
He didn't see her, not in the way a person sees.
But she moved in color—soft, ever-changing hues.
A streak of blue that bled into pale pink, then vanished.
He reached. Not with a hand, but with himself.
She paused.
Hovered just out of reach.
She pulsed curiosity. Mischief.
Something like laughter in the form of light.
He tried to speak—tried to ask who she was, or what she was.
But no sound came.
Still, she seemed to understand.
She spun in a slow spiral around him, teasing, shimmering.
Then darted away.
He followed.
---
They wove between the threads, drifting deeper into the vast web.
Sometimes she slowed down and let him catch up.
Other times she vanished completely, only to appear again just ahead.
He couldn't tell if she was leading him, or just playing.
But he didn't care.
She was the first thing here that felt… alive.
Like him.
Every movement she made drew colors from the threads.
Tiny sparks.
Like she was waking up something ancient just by being near it.
He found himself learning just by watching her.
How to move more fluidly.
How to listen to the space around them.
Not with ears, but with attention.
The threads responded differently to her than to him.
They twisted, shimmered, changed color.
He tried to mimic her patterns.
Failed.
Tried again.
She noticed.
She stopped, floated beside him. For the first time, she didn't move.
Just hovered there.
And he felt something simple and true:
> Recognition.
Not of who she was.
But that she was, and so was he, and that for now—
In this silence—
They were not alone.
---
Later—though time had no meaning—they reached a quiet place.
The threads grew thinner.
The hum dimmed.
At the center of it all was something different.
A spiral.
Not made of light or matter. Not even energy.
It was more like… a thought.
But a thought made solid.
Spinning inward, slowly, endlessly.
She circled it once, then drew back.
He drifted closer.
The spiral didn't pull or push.
It simply was.
And in its presence, something inside him stirred.
He hovered near it, not knowing what it wanted, or what it was.
But he could feel it watching him, without eyes.
And then, the spiral whispered.
Not in sound.
In memory.
In possibility.
It reached inside him—gently—and he felt something open.
A door with no walls.
A breath he hadn't taken yet.
A question he didn't know how to ask.
And he didn't understand what it meant.
But he knew it mattered.
He drifted backward. Slowly.
The spiral faded into the dark again.
When he turned, she was waiting.
She didn't ask what had happened.
She just pulsed warmth.
Soft color.
Understanding.
They floated together for a long while, side by side.
No names.
No past.
Only now.
---
That's how it began.
Not with a cry.
Not with a name.
But with a moment shared in silence.
The Web of Consciousness spread endlessly in all directions.
And somewhere within it, two shapeless souls hovered—
New.
Curious.
Unfinished.
But no longer alone.