The Great Quiet is not an absence, but a heavy, velvet pressure. You are a spark of awareness suspended in the amber of the before-time. There is only the low, resonant thrum of a world waiting to be spoken into existence—a vast, echoing tension before the first breath. You feel the weight of a thousand ancient names pressing against your consciousness, grounded and heavy, seeking a throat to cry through.

How does your spark settle against the approaching weight of existence? Feel free to create your own as well.