The Dreamer lingered only a moment longer, her presence shimmering like the fading echo of a lullaby. Though her form dissolved into the vastness, her essence remained—woven through the melody she had once begun.
The Infinite Path and Fate stood together at the edge of existence, watching the unfolding of worlds that no longer required their touch. The Counterpoint drifted nearby, idly tracing ripples through the cosmic fabric, humming to himself.
"They've taken the rhythm and made it their own," Fate said, her tone somewhere between pride and nostalgia. "Do you think they'll ever look up and realize what they're part of?"
The Path's light pulsed softly. "Perhaps some will. A few always do. The poets, the thinkers, the ones who feel too deeply for their own peace—they'll catch a fragment of the Song and wonder where it came from."
