The Source Symphony, that vast and beautiful melody that filled space with light and vibration, now had a dissonant melodic line emerging from it, a note that didn't belong, a fractured rhythm. It was the echo of the Primordial Monolith, a remnant of the cosmic wound that was the Fracture. The Painter had stepped back, her luminous storm manifestation watching us with that new quality of expectation that had appeared in her 'voice.' The path we were to follow was not visible to the eyes, but revealed itself to my senses as a current within the main current of rhythm.
We began to move toward the direction where the dissonant rhythm was strongest. As we moved forward, the Source's crystallized lightscape began to change. The ethereal white gave way to darker hues of gray and purple, as if the color were bruised. The crystallized light formations became more angular, more jagged, with sharp edges and shapes that looked... broken. The air felt colder again, with a harsh vibration that clashed with the Source's softer symphony.
The dissonant rhythm it followed wasn't easy to discern. It wasn't a steady pulse like that of the outer structure, nor a complex but unified symphony like that of the Source itself. It was irregular, unstable, sometimes disappearing momentarily before reappearing in an unexpected place. Following it required intense concentration, my mind fighting the tendency of the surrounding Veil to absorb or distort my perception. I felt a kind of mental 'noise,' an interference, coming from this dissonance.
"The Veil here... feels... torn," Maelle murmured, her voice strained. The others nodded silently, sensing the discomfort of the place.
"It's the Fracture scar," Sciel said, observing the broken crystal formations around us. "The place where the harmony was shattered. The echo we feel... must be a resonance of that violent moment."
"What do you think we'll find?" Lune asked, her sharp gaze scanning the dancing shadows and angular shapes.
"Perhaps... fragments," Gustave replied, his hand on his sword, ready. "Fragments of the Primeval Monolith. Or perhaps... what remained of the force that shattered it."
The path, guided by the dissonant rhythm, led us through narrow gorges formed by broken glass and vast caverns where the light of the Source struggled to penetrate. In some sections, we had to navigate masses of chaotic energy that flickered with garish colors, my rhythmic intuition warning me of safe moments to pass.
We encountered more frequent 'visions' here, echoes of the Fracture. They weren't as overwhelming as the one the Painter had shown me, but smaller, repetitive fragments. The sound of shattering glass, a silent scream, a sense of betrayal... They were remnants of the catastrophe, embedded in the fabric of the fractured Veil.
In one particularly large chamber, we found what appeared to be the remains of structures. Not buildings or altars, but colossal crystalline formations, some with vaguely geometric shapes, now broken into countless pieces. They looked like... fragments of something much larger, scattered by violence. Fragments of the Primeval Monolith?
Sciel approached one of the fragments with reverence. It was smooth, dark, made of a different material than the Source's surrounding crystal, a material that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. I felt a particularly strong dissonance emanating from it, a cold, silent echo. "It's... it's possible," Sciel murmured. "A fragment of the Monolith. Legend says it was the 'backbone' of the canvas, maintaining harmony."
I tried to feel the rhythm of the fragment. It was a broken, aching pulse, filled with the resonance of tearing. But within that pain, I felt... a memory. An impression. Not a clear vision, but a sense of purpose, of connection. As if the fragment, even broken, remembered its purpose.
We continued onward, finding more fragments scattered across this landscape of cosmic ruins. Each one emitted its own dissonance, its own echo of the rupture. The overall dissonant rhythm, the path we were following, grew stronger as we approached what I felt was its primary source.
The journey was mentally exhausting. The constant dissonance and echoes of the Fracture weighed heavily on us. My companions depended entirely on my ability to keep up with the dissonant rhythm, and the pressure was immense. I hesitated at times, unsure of which echo to follow, feeling the edges of my own perception blurring. But the ultimate goal—the hope of finding a way to stop the Painter without destroying her—driven me on.
After what seemed like an eternity, the dissonance reached a crescendo. The fractured rhythm was no longer an echo, but an overwhelming presence that filled the space. The light around us became chaotic, flickering with discordant colors. The crystalline formations twisted violently, as if the environment itself were suffering perpetual agony.
We arrived at a vast chamber, the heart of dissonance. At its center, there was no whole structure or object, but... a void. Not the shimmering emptiness of the opening that brought us to the Source, but an absence of light and form, a black hole in the fabric of reality, surrounded by the largest and most twisted shards of crystal and dark material. And from the center of that void... emanated dissonance. The purest echo of the broken Monolith.
But the void wasn't completely empty. At its edge, floating amidst the dissonance, was a figure. Or what remained of a figure. It looked humanoid, made from an amalgam of Veil energy and shards of crystal and dark metal, as if it had been... pieced together from the wreckage. It didn't move, but floated, motionless, in the heart of the dissonance.
We paused at the edge of the chamber, staring at the figure in the void. It was haunting, a testament to the violence of the Fracture and the distorting power of the Veil. Was it a guardian of dissonance? A remnant of those who broke the Monolith? Or something more?
The rhythm emanating from the figure wasn't the dissonance of the Monolith, nor the symphony of the Fountain, nor the pulse of a living being. It was different. A rhythm... artificial. Calculated.
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