Astarothael waited until the others were gone, and until the Verdant Regard had disappeared into the grey gaps after them, and until the snow had settled again over the empty rows. Then she hopped down from the porch rail, crossed the step in three small, delibrate paces, and sat down directly in front of Noah's boots, her tail wrapped neatly around her paws and her bright eyes fixed on his face.
"Essara of Existence are true power," she said. "Not eggs. Not chickens. Taking your own Narrative and your own Immensity and cutting existence itself apart to make something that was never yours into something that is."
She tilted her head. "I can tell you where to go. There are regions of existence where the grain runs so strong and so strange that the Essara carved there are like nothing anyone has seen. I know where some of them are."
