(Solomon's POV)
The door should not have existed.
That was the first thing I understood.
Not thought.
Not guessed.
Understood.
The knowledge arrived the moment it appeared.
The First Dream knew it.
The Devourer knew it.
Even the impossible presence called the Author seemed surprised by it.
The door stood alone amid the newborn stars.
Simple.
Wooden.
Unremarkable.
The sort of door one might find in an ordinary house.
A child's bedroom.
A family home.
Nothing divine.
Nothing cosmic.
Nothing worthy of existing beyond eternity.
And yet—
Everything revolved around it.
Reality bent toward it.
Possibility gathered around it.
The future itself seemed to flow from beneath its frame.
The Author watched silently.
The vast shadow no longer appeared threatening.
No.
That was
