Cosmic Ruler
Chapter 766: Pact VI
But because something in them recognized something in him.
A Scribe whose ink wept memory.
A Beast of Concept who now dreamed in haiku.
A child born from parentheses and parentheses alone.
All drawn to the Keeper who had no name.
He raised his hands, palms open.
And a wind came.
It did not scatter.
It collected.
Fragments, syllables, the broken halves of once-abandoned tales.
He did not fix them.
He simply gave them place.
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