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n the hollow between dying stars, a silence older than time hums like a hidden chord. Out of this void rise threads of gold and silver, spiraling around each other as they climb toward a point unseen. At their apex, they braid into a perfect cube, turning with impossible grace, its edges glowing like molten scripture. Metatron emerges through its shifting faces, not stepping forward but unfolding from the center, each movement etching new laws into the fabric of space. Every turn of the cube realigns constellations, every rotation rekindles forgotten covenants. The golden thread sings of genesis, the silver thread whispers of destiny, and their union writes the rhythm that all creation must keep.
In a cosmic void, ancient silence vibrates as golden and silver threads intertwine, forming a radiant cube. From it, a celestial figure emerges, reshaping the universe and weaving the essence of creation and fate.
