Evelyn slept for twenty-three hours.
No one was surprised.
No one questioned it.
After carrying an entire dead world for ten thousand years, she had earned a nap.
Possibly several.
The First World did not end.
That surprised everyone.
The hand vanished.
The sky healed.
The Seventh Archive remained open, but quietly so.
Like a library after closing hours.
The countless realities continued watching.
But not as observers anymore.
As neighbors.
The distinction mattered.
The throne beneath Draven Ridge pulsed contentedly.
The Shore shimmered among the stars.
The universe itself seemed to have decided that, for now, everything was all right.
Which left Black Hollow with a problem.
A very unusual problem.
They had no crisis.
Lucien handled this poorly.
By noon on the first d
