“What are your questions?” Luna said as at that moment Emma finally looked at her.

  The firelight reflected faintly in her unique white eyes, her expression unreadable but focused. She did not hesitate.

  “What is a cosmology?”

  Luna blinked once. Then, as if tasting the question, she let a thoughtful hum escape her lips.

  The fish continued to hover, shifting slightly away from the fire so the heat would not overtake it, its presence a quiet contrast to the depth of the question hanging in the air.

  “In a real sense,” Luna began, her voice measured, steady, “cosmology refers to the overarching framework or system that defines all things within the Absolute Junction of All Stories Within a Story..”

  Her words hung between them, each one intentional.

  “It encompasses infinite origins, structures, rules… and often, its ultimate fate.”

  Emma absorbed the expnation in silence.

  Her mind sifted through the words, picking them apart.

  Absolute Junction of All Stories Within a Story.

  Ultimate Fate.

  Frameworks.

  Her fingers curled slightly in her p. The night air pressed in, cool but not intrusive, carrying the weight of something unseen.

  Then.. her lips parted again.

  Another question formed.

  A thought that needed to be spoken.

  She met Luna’s gaze.

  “Then what does it mean to enter another being’s cosmology?” Emma asked, as Luna’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, her ethereal glowing white eyes reflecting the fire’s glow. The question hung between them, waiting, pressing.

  She exhaled softly, her brows furrowing ever so slightly in thought.

  A pause. A moment of stillness.

  Then she spoke.

  “Firstly...” Luna began, her voice calm, measured, yet carrying a weight beneath its quietness. “It’s not the same kind of cosmology as the one we reside in. Not exactly.”

  Her fingers flexed slightly in her p, the soft fabric of her gown shifting with her movement as she continued.

  “In a way, it is simir. But in another way... one far more important, it’s something else entirely.”

  She shifted, raising a hand slightly, the faint luminescence of her skin catching the firelight as she gestured.

  “It’s a personal cosmology,” she said, her voice thoughtful, as if shaping the expnation as she spoke. “Or, if it helps, you could call it a pocket cosmology.”

  Emma’s unique white eyes flickered with something.. curiosity, perhaps, but she remained silent, listening.

  “A pocket cosmology,” Luna went on, “is like a miniature version of a full cosmology, but instead of existing naturally, it is created. It is ruled and governed solely by the one who brings it into existence.”

  She let the words settle before continuing.

  “Another way to see it is as a concept that extends the idea of a ‘pocket reality’ to something much greater.. much grander. A pocket reality is usually just a small, self-contained dimension or world. But a pocket cosmology…”

  She let the thought trail for a moment before resuming.

  “A pocket cosmology is the creation or manipution of an entire self-made, infinite stories within a personal, ultimate story. It has its own beginning, its own rules, its own celestial bodies. The one who creates it is not just a ruler, not just an overseer.”

  Her gaze met Emma’s.

  “They are its author.”

  Emma’s fingers twitched slightly against her knee. Though the weight of sadness still pressed upon her, though the ache in her chest had not faded, something else now occupied her mind. The concept was vast.. too vast to grasp in one sitting, but still, it intrigued her.

  She inhaled slowly.

  “So,” she murmured, “it’s like an author and a character thing?”

  Luna let out a soft chuckle, her lips curving ever so slightly.

  “No,” she said gently. “Not exactly.”

  She tilted her head, the pale strands of her hair shifting like woven light as the warm night breeze brushed past them.

  “But almost.”

  She lifted a hand again, palm facing upward, as if holding something unseen.

  “Except for the character part,” she crified. “Only the author matters.”

  Emma’s gaze remained fixed on her, absorbing each word.

  “If someone creates a pocket cosmology,” Luna continued, “they become the author of that cosmology. They become its fundamental truth, its reality.”

  She let her hand lower back to her p, her movements fluid, intentional.

  “And what they create…”

  She paused, her voice quieting slightly, as if letting the words sink deeper.

  “…becomes the fiction.”

  Emma blinked slowly.

  Reality and fiction.

  The words turned over in her mind, circling, pressing.

  She shifted slightly, her fingers curling, then rexing, as the night air wrapped around them once more.

  A thought formed.

  A quiet breath, then she spoke.

  “That means… fiction is a reality from a greater reality.. which is the author?”

  Luna’s eyes gleamed in the firelight.

  “That’s right,” she murmured.

  Emma’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak just yet.

  Luna, sensing the lingering question, leaned forward just slightly, the glow of her skin casting a soft halo around her.

  “It can also be understood another way,” she said, her tone slow, calm, intentional.

  She lifted a hand again, tracing an unseen shape in the air.

  “A character or entity from a higher level of reality is always superior to those from a lower level. In this context, ‘reality’ refers to a higher pne of existence.”

  Her fingers stilled.

  “And ‘fiction’… refers to a lower pne.”

  The fire crackled, small embers lifting into the air before vanishing into the night.

  Emma swallowed.

  Something in her chest tightened... an unfamiliar weight.

  She wasn’t sure what it was yet.

  But she knew one thing.

  She wanted to understand more.