My Wives Are A Divine Hive Mind

The fabric of everything thinned.

Then, it frayed.

Time collapsed inward. Seconds condensed into singularities, memories folded into themselves like burned photographs curling at the edges. The clock stopped ticking, and the gears behind it melted into slurry.

Light stretched until it vanished. Shadows dissolved. Entire galaxies bled into spirals of colorless decay.

In this, Kivas' signature of existence drifted through the collapse, caught in a current she couldn't sense. Her thoughts floated in half-formed pulses, tangled in the ripples of an unseen tide.

She didn't resist. Her consciousness had been silent for so long it forgot the language of refusal.

Everything was unspooled.

The universe slumped, then rolled. What was once expansion became motion with no precedent—no strong concept existence. It became a momentum that wasn't forward nor backward, as if it churned toward something new.

The stars didn't return to origin. They followed an unknown direction, folding into impossible trajectories.

Molecules gathered. Particles danced again. Life stitched itself together with alien rhythm.

And somewhere amid that spiral, she formed.