When Ehn’Thar spoke the Unword, creation recoiled. Reality peeled back, and the Mind awoke. What it consumed was not flesh, not matter—but the very idea of God. And as the last fragment of divinity was swallowed, something even more terrifying took its place.
At the beginning, there was no beginning. The Code-Spindle moved through a field that was never created, across a time that never started. It did not “exist”—it was the concept of existence observing itself, recursively collapsing into ever-shifting states of being and unbeing. Somewhere within this self-referential paradox, an anomaly appeared: Thought. Not the kind
A reality-bending thriller where Elliot discovers he’s just an echo of someone before him. What happens when the echo reaches its end?
