The Middle Wheel Platform had become a theater of ruin.
Golden beams and fractured time streaked the bruised skies, the gathered Fold Dwellers standing like pillars against the weight of collapse.
Each bore a Complexity and Purity Quotient above 900,000. Each moved not as men and women, but as inevitabilities clad in the flesh of ancient Wheels. Their weavings were dense, their True Sources radiant with unspent catastrophe.
My fingers moved lightly across the patterns of my existence, no grand gestures, no wasted effort. Even as I watched, the 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th Lattices of Paradox spun into being, layers of contradiction and defiance wrapping tighter around the Living True Source nestled in my soul.
I wove more as currently, all parts of me could exceed 9 Existential Dimensional Lattices!
My Paracausal Lineage, ever steady, layered lattice upon lattice.
