Mae’s eyes swept the glowing script. Her lips moved without sound, tracing the symbols, letting the meaning sink in. It didn’t read like a story. It didn’t explain like a history book. It spoke. Not in words. In knowing. Her breath trembled as the lines shifted, symbols unfolding into shapes, memories not her own flickering at the edges of her mind. Names of species she recognized, some she didn’t, flowed through the glowing text. Her pulse quickened. It knows everything.
Every species. Every origin. Every fall. Every rise. Every extinction. Every fracture. Every repair attempt. And her name, written nowhere. Written everywhere. She blinked hard, whispering to herself, "What, what does this mean?" The thought barely settled when a voice cut through her spinning mind, sharp, but curious. “
