A Story So Loud

An idea began to dawn in Maia’s mind, a fragile spark of understanding. ‘You mean… we write ourselves out?’ Jester’s grin widened. ‘Not out. We write ourselves bigger. We write a story so loud it can’t be contained. Let’s start with the basics. What does this place look like?’ He gestured again at the blank, shimmering walls of their prison. Maia, falling back on her Weaver training, began to visualize. ‘It needs a texture,’ she murmured, her hands moving as if tracing patterns in the air. ‘Something to catch the light. Not uniform. Something… organic.’ As she spoke, the faintest of changes occurred. The smooth, sterile walls began to show a subtle, almost imperceptible texture, like handmade paper. It was a tiny shift, a barely-there whisper of a change, but it was real. It was creation. Awe and terror warred on Maia’s face. Jester simply nodded, his eyes alight with triumph. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now, give it a sound.’