When is an existence the most powerful?
It is a question that has echoed through the Folds since the first flicker of consciousness looked upon the vast, silent canvas of reality and wondered about its own place within it.
Is it when one's complexity is a number so vast it requires new mathematics to be written?
Is it when one's authority is so absolute that their whisper can unmake Wheels? Or is it something quieter, something more fundamental, a state of being that has nothing to do with the grand, noisy theatrics of power?
In the Earliest Folds, in a time before time was a straight line, in a cavern carved from the solidified concept of hunger itself, millions of Inevitabilities had gathered.
They were a sea of writhing, formless want, their collective presence a low thrum that made the very fabric of the space vibrate.
At the center of this nest, wrapped in a cocoon of shimmering, obsidian silk so vast it seemed to contain its own night sky, rested The First Hunger.
