This revelation cast their situation in a new light. If powerful figures like Lord Dominic Sinclair were pursuing knowledge of the Great Symphony for purposes of control, then Percival's research—and especially his direct perception experience at the observatory—represented a significant threat to their plans.
"We need more information," Elara decided. "About your father's activities, about who else might be involved, about what they know and what they're planning."
"Agreed," Percival said. "And we need to better understand what I experienced at the observatory—particularly the wounds in the pattern and those... observers... beyond it."
They fell silent for a time, each contemplating the implications of their discussion. The fire burned low, casting flickering shadows across their faces as night deepened around them. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of the river—water lapping against the shore, the occasional splash of a fish, the faint creaking of a vessel passing in the main channel.
Percival took the opportunity to examine another of the crystal records from the observatory. This one, when activated with the proper harmonic frequency, displayed detailed information about the seven primary harmonic nodes across the continent—locations where each harmony manifested most strongly in the natural world.
According to the record, these nodes weren't fixed but shifted gradually over time, responding to changes in the world's harmonic balance. What was most interesting, however, was that all seven were currently moving—slowly but measurably—toward convergence.
"Elara," he said, showing her the projection. "Look at this pattern. The harmonic nodes are converging."
She studied the projection with interest. "That's unusual. Historically, the nodes maintain relatively stable positions, with only minor fluctuations over centuries."
"Exactly. But according to this data, they've been steadily moving toward convergence for the past fifty years—since approximately the time of my birth."
This was a significant correlation that couldn't be dismissed as coincidence. Something had changed in the world's harmonic balance around the time Percival was born, initiating a process of convergence that continued to the present day.
"Could this be related to the wounds in the pattern you perceived?" Elara suggested.
"Possibly," Percival agreed. "If the wounds are areas where the separation between harmonies is weakening, that might manifest as physical convergence of the harmonic nodes."
This theory had troubling implications. If the separation of the harmonies was indeed weakening, it could eventually lead to conditions similar to those that preceded the First Dissonance—a catastrophic event that had reshaped their world and led to the Age of Silence.
"We need to reach that convergence point in the Verdant Theocracy," Percival decided, referring to the location he had identified earlier. "If any place holds answers about the Great Symphony and what's happening now, it would be there."
"The Theocracy is notoriously isolationist," Elara reminded him. "Especially regarding harmonic research. Gaining access to a site within their territory won't be easy."
"We'll find a way," Percival said with quiet determination. "But first, we need to reach Eastwatch and establish a secure position from which to plan our next steps."
They agreed to take watches through the night, with Elara taking the first shift while Percival rested. As he settled onto his bedroll, his mind continued to work through the implications of what they had discovered. The convergence of the harmonic nodes, the wounds in the Symphony's pattern, his father's apparent interest in controlling the unified structure—these elements formed a concerning picture that suggested events of profound significance were unfolding.
And somewhere in this complex web of harmonic theory, political power, and ancient knowledge lay answers to questions that had driven him since childhood—questions about the true nature of reality and humanity's place within it. Questions that now seemed more urgent and consequential than he had ever imagined.
---
Lord Dominic Sinclair stood at the window of his private study, gazing out at the moonlit gardens of his estate on the outskirts of Concordia. His tall, imposing figure was silhouetted against the night sky, his features—so similar to his son's—set in an expression of controlled frustration.
"You're certain it was him at the observatory?" he asked without turning.
"Yes, my lord," replied the man standing behind him—Commander Thorne of the Alliance Intelligence Service. "Our harmonic tracking confirmed his presence, along with an unidentified female companion. They departed before our team could intercept them."
Dominic nodded slowly. "And the observatory caretaker?"
"Uncooperative," Thorne reported. "His condition makes conventional interrogation impossible. We've brought in specialists to attempt communication through harmonic means."
"Don't damage him," Dominic ordered sharply. "Crane's knowledge is too valuable."
"Understood, my lord."
Dominic turned from the window, his silver-streaked dark hair and aristocratic features illuminated by the soft glow of harmonic lamps. Unlike his son, whose eyes now bore the silver ring of harmonic perception, Dominic's eyes were a cold, calculating blue—revealing nothing of his thoughts or intentions.
"What of their current location?" he asked, moving to a large map table that dominated the center of the study.
Thorne approached the table, indicating a section of the Silvermist River. "Our last confirmed sighting was near Silverford. Based on their trajectory and the river's current, they're likely heading toward Harmonium. We've established surveillance at all major ports and settlements along the route."
Dominic studied the map thoughtfully. His son had always been clever—too clever for his own good, perhaps. If Percival had indeed experienced a perception shift at the observatory, as the preliminary reports suggested, then the situation had become considerably more complex.
"He'll avoid Harmonium," Dominic said finally. "It's too obvious a destination. Look to smaller settlements downriver—places with limited official presence."
"Eastwatch?" Thorne suggested, indicating a small settlement on the map.
"Possibly. It has connections to certain underground networks that might offer shelter." Dominic's expression hardened. "Expand the surveillance accordingly, but maintain a distance. I want to know where they go and who they contact, but do not engage directly."
"And if they attempt to leave Alliance territory?"
"Then you will inform me immediately," Dominic replied, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. "Under no circumstances are they to cross into the Verdant Theocracy or the Entropic Hegemony."
Thorne nodded, understanding the implicit order. "Yes, my lord."
"That will be all, Commander."
After Thorne departed, Dominic remained at the map table, his thoughts turning to his son. Percival had always been brilliant but idealistic—pursuing knowledge for its own sake without consideration for its practical applications or potential dangers. It was a luxury Dominic could not afford, not with what he knew about the Great Symphony and what was coming.
He moved to another table where a complex harmonic device sat—a more sophisticated version of the spectrometer Percival carried. When activated, it projected a three-dimensional representation of harmonic activity across the continent, with particular focus on the seven primary nodes.
The projection confirmed what Dominic already knew—the nodes were converging, moving inexorably toward a configuration not seen since before the First Dissonance. And with that convergence came opportunity and danger in equal measure.
"You don't understand what's at stake, my son," he murmured to the empty room. "But you will."