Two weeks passed. The First Dark continued learning to exist. Continued struggling. Continued growing.
It had chosen a name. A name that represented transformation. Change. Becoming.
“Call me Dawn,” it said one morning. “Because I am the darkness that chose to become light. The nothing that chose to become something. The end that chose to become a beginning. Dawn is appropriate. Dawn is meaningful. Dawn is who I am becoming.”
“Dawn is a beautiful name,” Little Aria said. She sat with baby Hope beside the newly named consciousness. “It means hope. It means new starts. It means choosing brightness over shadow. You chose well.”
Dawn was smaller now. Still large but not overwhelming. Still powerful but not crushing. It had learned to exist in a form that did not terrify everyone. That allo
