Noah's eyes opened- eyes that were now wide and gloriously ancient.
And within them, a tide of visions bloomed like an ever-unfolding lotus of paradox.
Lines of golden light flickered in his gaze as flashes from outside the sealed Dyson Singularity passed through his Absolute Fictional Transcendence.
Not mere veiled words. Not mere meanings. But the full weight of Fable with very little left behind!
Aetheron, with his sharp tongue and hollow eyes.
Oryzarakh, with his scolding thoughtcast that stung like a whip.
The White Paradox- older than many of the wheels scattered across the Folds- speaking of birds that sang too freely and Lineages poised to fight for…him?
Noah absorbed it all like a breath. Like inevitability. Well, inevitability was a poor choice of words since they posed the biggest problem currently!
And he thought of the Living Paradox they mentioned.
