The figure of light stepped onto the mossy loam with a grace that felt like a ripple in water. It wore robes woven from starlight and carried a tome bound in shifting, translucent parchment. Behind this vanguard, a procession of travelers began to emerge from the myriad windows, beings of gas, creatures of liquid geometry, and entities that seemed to be composed of nothing more than musical notes.
The garden, once a fortress of solitude, had become the focal point of the multiverse.
Elara felt the garden brace itself. The silver-leafed trees shifted their branches, not in aggression, but in a gesture of profound curiosity. The traveler bowed, and as he did, the book in his hands opened. It didn't contain writing, but live projections of a thousand worlds, each one vibrating in harmony w
