The silence lasted a breath too long.
Then Adam exhaled.
A quiet, almost lazy sigh.
He raised his hand—slowly, like it wasn't urgent.
Fingers opened.
The air trembled.
"…Restore."
One word.
Soft.
Spoken like a suggestion.
But the world obeyed like it had been waiting for that very moment.
Then—
Boom.
Reality bent.
The sky glitched—colors flashing, twisting—then reversed.
The cracks in the clouds stitched shut like they were never broken.
The skeleton cities…
Started breathing again.
Ruined skyscrapers pulled their bones back together—
Glass reformed mid-air.
Steel beams reversed their collapse, slotting back into perfect alignment.
Streetlights flickered back on one by one, humming softly.
A broken bridge in New York pulled itself together like rewinding tape—cars reappearing, trees regrowing, birds flying again as if nothing had happened.
In the Sahara, desert sand parted as green burst upward—jungles unfolding in fast-forward, waterfalls roaring to life.
