It was beginning to become.
Across the endless expanse, the Cosmic Symphony did not simply spread—it deepened. Each luminous thread that shot across the galaxies carried within it not merely sound or light, but invitation. A quiet beckoning, a call woven of resonance, asking every part of existence the same ancient, newborn question:
"Will you join?"
Not all responded with clarity. Some responded with confusion, others with instinct, others with pure curiosity. But all responded—because the Symphony was not an external force acting upon creation.
It was creation remembering itself.
The first replies came from places where silence had ruled for millennia.
In the shadowed regions between galaxies—the dark corridors where even starlight dared not wander—something stirred. Tendrils of cold matter shivered, their ancient inertia breaking. They reached outward hesitantly, like shy children peeking from behind a cosmic door.
