The Stone That Narrowed the Sky

Liora stood beneath a sky woven of possibilities.

Above her hung a lattice of faintly glowing threads, crossing and recrossing in silent architecture. None compelled. None selected. Each shimmered with equal invitation.

She lifted a small stone from the ground.

The moment her fingers closed around it, the sky narrowed.

Not because the sky had changed — but because the act had cut through it. What had been vast became specific. The shimmer gathered into a single line descending into her palm.

The stone did not represent the sky.

It was not a token of a higher thing.

It was a narrowing —

a path through the weave.

From below, one might say:

This stone is a token of that sky.

But from above, the sky would whisper:

This is how I become event.

Liora released the stone.

The sky widened again.