A wind rose in the deep gold of the citadel, far off where the stacked tiers burned against the shelved evenings of the sky.
It was not a true wind, for no true winds blew in a Dimension where tomorrow had been cut away, but an exhalation of the land itself, and it rolled outward across the folded distances!
It slid down the ascending architecture and out over the pale meditation halls, where white-robed Provenance Lifeforms sat unmoving as carvings with their auras turned inward.
It crossed the unhurried roads and the solemn processions upon them, stirring the hems of burial-walkers who did not look up!
It swept across the terraced Cause-farms, over a hundred stellar lakes and a thousand drowned suns turning in their depths, and it broke at last, like a tide against a final stone, upon a lone figure in white robes standing above an unclaimed lake, the eerie golden smile of his mask turned slowly across everything!
Noah catalogued everything the wind had touched!
