As Kael methodically destroyed another of the illusions surrounding him, the Margin Keeper leader suddenly knelt, not before Kael, but before empty space that seemed, somehow, to demand exactly that gesture of deference.
A single crimson page drifted downward from somewhere above, settling gently before the kneeling elder.
An ancient voice echoed through the archive then, neither male nor female, carrying within it an absolute, unshakeable certainty that made the very air feel heavier.
*Imperfection,* the voice said, *is merely poor editing.*
Every Margin Keeper present bowed in unison at those words, their reverence unmistakable.
Kael's pupils narrowed sharply. The Editor, he realized with sudden clarity, wasn't their highest authority after all. Someone else existed above him in whatever strange hierarchy governed this organization.
The elder whispered the name reverently, his voice barely above a breath. "The Redactor. Our First Editor. He who will complete history."
