And at the center…
There was a stele.
A tall, thin slab, slightly leaning forward, as if it had bowed under the weight of silence, or of what it bore. It did not shine. Caught no light. It seemed to have been placed there forever, forgotten by the world, and perhaps even by time. No wind caressed its surface. No breath brushed it. And yet, it was there — upright, enigmatic, alien.
It resembled nothing.
Not stone.
Not metal.
Not a fragment of bone polished by centuries.
It was something else. A material I couldn't name. That belonged to no memory of a human hand, nor to any mineral lexicon. Something older. Denser. More ancient than the world. A texture that eluded matter itself — as if this thing had been sculpted before matter had learned to exist.
