Odin stood there, in the echo of that light, the black being's voice still burning through his mind. He furrowed his brows. "So…" He said slowly, voice breaking the silence that hung between them. "We are still in the Second Phase of creation?"
The Towering Black Being's flames stirred, a slow ripple moving across its body like thought made visible.
We are.
Its tone was patient, vast.
But now the universe itself wishes to continue. It grows restless, like a seed pressed too long beneath stone.
Odin frowned, his gaze drifting to the horizon where rivers of fire bled into mist. "Then why doesn't it?" He asked. "If the universe desires to move, what holds it back?"
The black being turned its head, slow as mountains shifted.
Because the First Origin still exists.
The words rolled through the air like thunder beneath the earth.
Odin trembled as his brows drew closer together, confusion stirring beneath the weight of revelation.
