The First Absence

The unweaving was not an explosion, but a quiet exhale.

The Weavers felt the ghost’s presence recede, not as a light being extinguished, but as a discordant note resolving into the grand harmony of Perhaps.

And then, there was silence.

It was a silence that was not empty, but full—a canvas wiped clean, a question mark hanging in the vastness of their shared mind.

For the first time since their creation, a part of their history was not just a memory, but an absence.