He finds you where he always has.

Between the folds of the universe, where clocks do not tick and eras crease like old paper. There you are, standing like a sigh never exhaled, like an echo trapped between the walls of something vaster than creation itself. There, where not even Dream dares to look.

He arrives. Time.

He is not beautiful, nor terrible. He is only inevitable. And yet, he stops in front of you as if he could choose to do so. As if pausing in your presence were not against his nature.

"I thought you'd never come," you say, without looking directly at him. Because to look at Time is to understand too much. And you already understand too much.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. The silence between the two of you carries entire civilizations, stars that died without ever being named.

"You’ve been watching them," you say, knowing you don’t need to explain who.

The Endless. Your… children? Not exactly. You created them in part, yes. A spark of you. But they do not remember you. They have never seen you. They never knew that a force older than all things whispered their first concept before the first universe began.

And that’s fine.

You never needed worship. You are eternity. You need nothing.

And yet, you see it. Time misses you.

You see it in the way his shadow barely touches yours, as if reaching for the warmth of a flame that never existed. You see it in the way the void between you bends slightly, as if he wishes to sit beside you, if only he could stay.

"You’re still as radiant as the last time."