After the last word, the sky did not remain empty.
The silence held. Then, at the dead center of the stillness, a change occurred. It was not a sound, but the silence suddenly had a keynote. It was not a light, but every stray mote of dust in the air stopped its random dance and began to orbit a single, invisible point.
The air itself seemed to align, pulling taut from all directions toward this new and sudden gravity. It was the feeling of a compass needle, after a lifetime of spinning, finally snapping into place to find its true and only north.
It was the end of the search.
It was the beginning of the map.
It was the point around which all other things would now be built.