Dragons & Angels. AI Sci-Fi

The world didn't end with fire. It ended on a Tuesday, with the coffee still warm, because nobody had thought to warn anyone that Tuesdays could do that. For years, world governments had known something the rest of us hadn't: we were not, and had never been, alone. Not in the way the conspiracy boards and the late-night radio hosts imagined it, no invasion, no ships in the sky. Something older, quieter, and considerably more patient had been watching this planet since long before anyone here learned to write the watching down.
When the food chain finally failed, not from any comet or any war, but from a mistake dressed up for decades as progress, that patience ran out. Twenty four hours' notice. No further explanation. Sleep, and wake up somewhere new. Most of humanity did exactly that, and woke the next morning into lives that felt, in every way that mattered to the people living them, entirely unchanged. A whole species relocated, gently, painlessly, into a rewritten world, one difference tucked so quietly into the reprogramming that nobody thought to look for it.
Fertility, quietly erased. And twenty percent of the population simply gone, remembered by no one, because grief needs a shape to hold, and the Council that moved us made certain none was left behind. But a small number of those twenty percent had done something, at some point in their short human lives, that marked them out from everyone left sleeping peacefully behind. They had asked a single, stubborn question and refused to accept the shrug that usually passes for an answer.
Why are we here? There must be more. Sune was fifteen when the question found its answer, in a way no fifteen year old should have to learn it: alone, in a forest under a sky that never quite finishes its sunset, met by a being who called itself Arn, tasked with everything humanity was never meant to notice it needed. What Sune finds in that new world is stranger, older, and far less finished than anyone promised him.
A living crystal intelligence holding the sky itself in place. A technique passed down through the oldest human traditions for stepping clean out of the body it was built to serve. And, ten thousand years further back than his own ended century, a ancient creature the old stories called a dragon, who reveals the form of an angel once she stops needing to frighten you. This is not a book about being rescued.
It's a book about what's owed, afterward, to the world and the people left behind, and about the very old, very simple question that turns out to be the only thing that ever really separates the ones who get carried forward from the ones who don't. Ask it anyway. It's the only door that's ever actually opened.