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Dance of the Runes

  A single point of light flared in the boundless dark, swelling into a turbulent cataclysm of energy. In its wake, an ashen haze rippled, drifting in gentle waves as though unsure of the shape it should hold.

  Here and there, the haze twisted together into faint glimmers. Subtle at first, they grew with a serene grace, before crossing some unseen threshold that coaxed them into vivid life. With each new spark, the surrounding dust parted in rolling, shimmering spirals.

  If one peered closer at these new motes, they would see an infinity of crystalline surfaces, each capturing a perplexing rune at its heart. Shifting perspectives would reveal the symbols flexing and flowing, pulsing with spectral colors; the quiet beat of an otherworldly pulse.

  Before long, the dust collected itself across vast distances, forming a never-ending constellation of fireflies in the dark. They drifted, changed, and drew closer to one another in slow, hypnotic dances. In a lonely corner of this cosmic sea, a small gathering formed — a scattered cluster held together by simple chance, swirling in asymmetrical eddies for long ages without form or pattern.

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  From afar, a single mote drifted into this congregation, seeking haven among its peers. Its approach was tentative, as though self-aware in its caution.

  “How will I be received?” it seemed to wonder. Slowly, it joined the others, and in an instant the cluster joined in a radiant dance, their colors morphing and sweeping in a welcoming display. Their collective light guided and shaped each other, weaving fresh harmony from once-isolated glows.

  Others followed, drawn by the new spark of change. They came in hesitant waves, each carrying its own quiet power to transform the group anew. And in that shared brilliance, a warm reply shone through:

  “You will find yourself welcome here.”

  Hello, and welcome.

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