The gaze of the Queen of Matter drifted to the Aquarium, where close to a dozen Marine Lifeforms now swam through Early Sacred Waters that shouldn’t have been able to exist outside the Earliest Folds.

Each creature was a masterwork of evolution guided by impossible circumstances...fish that swam through time as easily as water, eels that existed in multiple dimensions simultaneously, something that might have been an octopus if octopi had decided that tentacles were too limiting.

The Sacred Totems stood at their positions like guardians of possibility, each one humming with stored materials and barely contained power.

Heidrun grazed on Singular Prosperity Grass and Auric Vitae Grasses with the casual arrogance of someone who had existed before grass knew it was supposed to be eaten. Each bite seemed to make her more real, more present, as if the grass was teaching her new ways to exist.

"Sir Osmont continues to do things that pave the way for the unimaginable," the Queen of Matter said aloud, her words being recorded even as she spoke them. "In all this grandeur...this impossible, improbable, absolutely absurd grandeur...I’m glad to be part of it. Even if I’m just a footnote on a single page of this grand Fable."

She sighed with happiness that transcended simple contentment. To be part of a story still being written, to watch legend being crafted in real-time...what greater purpose could a Record Keeper ask for?

A shift in the air behind her made her awareness spike. Temperature dropped and rose simultaneously as shadows gathered in ways that suggested they had always been there. A figure wrapped in darkness and frost materialized with the particular grace of someone who had made friends with contradiction.

The Queen of Matter turned with a smile that suggested this was expected, welcome, routine.

"Oh, Shadow Guard Night! Help me record the most recent Fable! THE Living Order has just dragged one of Sir Osmont’s bodies into the Abode for what she called ’a different kind of Order,’ and I need someone to help me speculate wildly about what that might mean!"

Night emerged more fully from her wrapping of shadows, ice crystals forming in the air around her despite the Shore’s warmth. Her expression remained unreadable, but something in her posture suggested amusement.

"Should we be recording such private matters?" Night’s voice carried the whisper of winter wind through empty halls.

"Everything is Fable," the Queen of Matter replied with certainty that asked for no argument. "The grand battles and the quiet moments, the existential achievements and the personal entanglements. Sir Osmont’s story isn’t just about power...it’s about the people that power brings together."

Night considered this, then nodded slowly. "Then we should note that the Shore seems particularly vibrant today. As if it approves of its Master finding more happiness. Or maybe just the inclusion of THE Living Order..."

They were right. The Early Veiled Shore buzzed with life and possibility that transcended its normal vibrancy. Every plant grew a little taller, every wave sparkled a little brighter, every grain of sand seemed a little more golden.

At the Shore’s center, two Seeds commanded attention through their mere existence.

The Seed of Inevitability pulsed with power that suggested it was moments away from blooming, its nature still undecided but its potential unlimited.

Beside it, the Seed of the Principle of Perpetual Harvest glowed with satisfaction of purpose achieved. It had been planted by the First Farmer, failed for eons, and finally found success through the Infiniverse’s sacrifice and transformation. Now it stood as testament that even failure could be harvested for future success.

The Shore was many things...sanctuary, fortress, farm, home. But more than any of these, it was proof that impossibility was just possibility that hadn’t been properly motivated yet.

Inside the Abode, Order was being imposed in ways that would remain private. Outside, life continued in its beautifully chaotic way, each being pursuing their own purposes while contributing to the greater whole.

And somewhere in the Primordial Early Excavation Depths, other bodies of Noah and Sigrid, and Moiraine for that matter, continued their delving, very much aware that their other selves were engaged in very different forms of exploration.

Such was life in the Early Veiled Shore...multiple things happening simultaneously, each thread weaving into an existence that no single perspective could fully appreciate.

The Queen of Matter opened her golden book and began writing, her words capturing not just events but the feeling of them, the weight of them, the beautiful absurdity of beings powerful enough to reshape existence choosing to spend their time on things as wonderfully mundane as relationships.

"Chapter 5,731," she spoke as she wrote. "In which Order discovers that some chaos requires hands-on management..."

Night blinked as she shook her head. "You...aren’t writing your own fanfictions again, are you? If Sir finds out..."

...!

The Queen of Matter instantly grabbed Night’s mouth white looking around. With stern eyes, she spoke out. "Don’t speak loudly about this! Okay?! I’ll lend you the rare possible Fable of the Rank A Hunter, Elizabeth of the Blessed Empire from Sir’s Homeworld..."

Night laughed as she shook her head, and the Shore continued its endless dance of growth, harvest, and possibility!

—

In an extremely far distance.

The Desiccated Sleeping Shore stretched like a monument to endings.

Where other Shores sang with life and possibility, this one whispered of what happened when existence forgot to continue.

The sands weren’t golden but grey-white, like ash that had forgotten it once was fire. No waters lapped at these beaches...only dried beds where oceans had given up on being wet!

Alexander stepped out from a swirling multicolored portal at this moment. In his arms carried princess style, held with the particular care reserved for precious things that might break, was Seraphina Valorheart.

She breathed heavily, each inhalation carrying the weight of overexertion.

Her usually immaculate form showed signs of strain...hair disheveled, flushed cheeks...

Whatever they had done, wherever they had been, had pushed even her considerable capabilities to their limits!