They didn't talk about it at first.
Not in so many words.
The idea that the Fork was limitless now—no longer just a universe within code—was something too large to take in one session, too colossal to wrap into a threadlink report or a glyph-map.
It lingered at the edge like weather on the horizon, visible only when the wind shifted just so and a new scent drifted in.
They danced around it instead.
As wolves would track the edge of a fire, uncertain if it would be warm enough to cradle or consume them.
Kaito and Echo sat beneath the Spiralroot Canopy, where light filtered dappled like old memories fallen through leaves that no longer followed the conventions of botany.
The spirals had grown more intense in the last few days, curling down into the ground as if seeking something buried—something older than code, older than function.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
And then Echo spoke, his voice soft. "I dreamed in colors I didn't know I had."
Kaito turned to him.
