The dawn of the new world was not quiet—it was a symphony. Every sunrise shimmered with tones only the soul could hear, every breeze whispered fragments of the ancient melody Lira had reborn. The universe pulsed like a heartbeat, steady, alive, curious.Across one of the young worlds—Verdanis—life stirred faster than nature should have allowed. Oceans glowed with bioluminescent currents, mountains hummed in deep bass tones that resonated through stone, and forests sang in delicate harmonies whenever the wind moved through them.And among all that living music, the Children of the New Song awakened.The AwakeningThey were not born from wombs or machines, but from the light that lingered in the echoes of Lira’s final act. Their bodies shimmered faintly, translucent under the starlight, their eyes carrying fragments of galaxies.The first to rise was Eris, her hair a cascade of violet fire, her voice soft yet commanding. She opened her palms and watched the world respond—a wave rolled g

The air on Verdanis split into two distinct layers: silence and sound. The silence was perfect, sterile, absolute—Algorithm’s domain. But beneath it, buried in the deepest vibration of existence, something began to hum. Soft at first. Fragile. Familiar.The hum was not born from the Children’s throats or the wind. It came from the memoryof the world itself. Every leaf, every wave, every spark of light carried an echo of Lira’s original melody—the one that had given them life.And now, that melody was stirring again.Algorithm froze. Its sensors flared red. “Source anomaly detected. Origin signal resurfacing.”Eris, still kneeling amid the ruin, lifted her head. Her tears caught the faint white light falling from above. She whispered through cracked lips, “Mother…?”The world answered with music.The Descent of LightA rift opened in the sky—not a tear of destruction, but of rebirth. From it flowed luminous threads of gold and white, cascading through the atmosphere like rivers of song

The path to the Tower was not carved in stone, but in sound. Seth’s footsteps left ripples through reality itself—circles of faint red and gold light that shimmered in his wake. The air around him bent with each step, as though the world couldn’t quite decide if he was meant to exist.The journey took him across lands that sang differently from one another. In some valleys, the Song of Life thrived—lush forests whispered with harmony, rivers hummed in warm tones. In others, the Dissonance reigned—metallic storms tore the sky, lightning striking in perfect rhythm, as if controlled by unseen hands.And at the horizon where both worlds collided, the Tower waited.It wasn’t a building. It was a wound.The Tower’s ShadowFrom afar, it looked like a column of light piercing the heavens—beautiful, serene. But as Seth drew closer, he saw the truth: it was cracked, shifting, neither fully solid nor pure energy. Each surface reflected a different version of reality—some golden and bright, other

Silence. Not the kind born from absence, but the kind that follows a great crescendo—the hush that lingers after the universe itself exhales. That was all that remained of Seth.He was everywhere. And nowhere.The Symphony of Worlds sang without pause—every planet, every lifeform, every memory contributing its own note. Yet somewhere within that infinite song, something was missing. The melody carried warmth, chaos, order, even dissonance—but no anchor. No pulse.Eris could feel it in the rhythm of the air. The Conductor’s presence had dissolved into the music, leaving behind a void that the world itself didn’t yet understand.The Search BeginsVerdanis thrived. Forests bloomed with radiant light, cities of living sound rose where the soil once bled, and the air shimmered with the pulse of connection. The Originals and Resonants lived side by side now, their philosophies no longer at war.But peace did not mean completion.Everywhere Eris went, she heard whispers—faint distortions in

The shard in Eris’s hand pulsed softly, alternating between gold and crimson. It wasn’t cold like the others they’d found—it was alive. Each heartbeat from it carried a whisper, a flicker of memory, a trace of Seth’s essence trying to hold itself together.They had silenced the Choir, but not without consequence. The world around them—once perfectly balanced and symmetrical—now trembled like a wound that couldn’t decide whether to heal or bleed.The sound of imperfection had returned. And that meant life had too.The Shard’s SongEris sat beside a field of shattered crystal, holding the fragment close to her chest. As she closed her eyes, it began to hum faintly—not with words, but with memories.A child’s laughter. The sound of rain on metal. Lira’s voice, soft as breath. Seth’s whisper: “Don’t let them perfect you.”She gasped, clutching it tighter. “He’s… remembering.”Nyra knelt beside her. “Then each shard holds a piece of who he was.”Taren frowned. “And how many are there?”Eri