They stood within a pool of quiet water that mirrored a dark starless sky overhead. At the heart of the water upon an islet crafted from gleaming bone rested a device. It was both living and mechanical consisting of a core made of throbing violet crystal intertwined with filaments that submerged into the water. Surrounding it drifting in the water were small luminous spheres—each representing a preserved memory, a seized instant of affection or happiness being absorbed by the machine.
This was known as the Nostalgia Engine.. The entity caring for it was not a demon but someone Cassiathon identified from old Project Phoenix archives: Dr. Aris Thorne, the chief psychic resonance expert. He was believed to have perished in the breach. Yet here he stood, pale and timeless his gaze empty as he softly manipulated the drifting wires.
"Thorne " Cassiathon exhaled.
The man raised his gaze. There was no acknowledgment, a calm vacant dedication. "The raw material needs to be cleansed. The harsh edges softened. We are forging peace. Everlasting peace."
"Hes not incarcerated " Kuro murmured, a mix of horror and fascination in his tone. "Hes become a follower. She entrusted him with his mission—a realm free, from painful recollection—and he chose to operate the device. Hes applying his knowledge to refine her weapon."
The spheres, in the water shimmered. Cassiathon noticed glimpses inside them: a kiss a childs giggle, a calm instant of togetherness. All flawless. All clinical.
"We must eliminate it " Sierra stated, lifting her rifle.
"Breaking it will unleash all the trapped memories simultaneously " Morgan cautioned. "A psychic surge of intense emotion. It might overwhelm every consciousness within miles."
Cassiathon gazed at the device observing the figure operating it. He recognized the reality. This was more, than a weapon. It represented a corruption of his purpose. While he aimed to safeguard chaotic life this machine intended to substitute it with perfect stripped-down copies.
He was unable to destroy it. However he could… reconfigure it.
"Provide cover " he instructed, stepping into the water.
The spheres grazed him as he moved by each murmuring a solitary joy. He arrived at the bone island. Dr. Thorne made no move to halt him merely observed with eyes.
Cassiathon rested his hands upon the crystal. He sensed its function: to seek out happiness detach it and remove its background. To render love secure, by rendering it void of significance.
He did not introduce death or disorder. He introduced context. He supplied the machine with the remembrance of his father's hand resting on his shoulder following the duel with Raziel—a pride emerging from hardship. He supplied it with the recollection of Tania's tears when he came back, from the Plains—relief stemming from fear. He supplied it with the memory of the Sun-Striders rejoicing over their fixed engine—happiness arising from labor.
He inundated the Nostalgia Engine with the reality that significance arises from contrast. That happiness is important because sorrow is present. That love shows courage because losing it is a possibility.
The machine trembled. The violet gem blazed, then started shifting through hues—blue, gold. The flawless luminous spheres in the water faded. Then one after another they relit,. Changed. Each sphere now held not a solitary flawless moment but a duo of moments: the happiness and the hardship that gave it significance. The. The dispute, before it. The. The sorrow that followed.
Dr. Thorne inhaled sharply grasping his head. "No… this is… this is chaotic. It's incorrect!"
"It's genuine " Cassiathon remarked, taking a step backward.
The Nostalgia Engine was not demolished. It underwent a transformation. Than transmitting pure sorrow it now gave off a deep intricate sound of poignant reality. The Wraiths worldwide wouldn't disappear,. They would evolve. They would now embody not the departed loved one but the entire narrative—the blend of affection and grief combined.
The instrument of peace had transformed into a symbol of intricate reality.
The water surrounding them started to recede the space unfolding. They needed to leave.
As they retreated into the world the cliffside firming up behind them a fresh noise drifted on the breeze. It wasn't the cry of spirits. Instead it was the echo of souls, throughout the Compact undergoing an abrupt, deep and achingly genuine recollection of those they had departed—not a cleaned-up rendition but the complete, lovely and sorrowful reality.
It was a surge of sorrow.. It was pure sorrow. Restorative sorrow.
Returning to the mountain updates were received. The Wraiths had vanished, leaving a trace of ozone and an odd feeling of resolution. The visions ceased. The mental onslaught had ended.
Within the strategy chamber Celeste gazed at Cassiathon with large anxious eyes. "What you executed… it was stunning. However it also triggered a far-reaching occurrence. You didn't merely interfere with her signal. You sent out an one on her wavelength spanning the entire psychic domain." She laid a hand on his chest. "The Queen sensed that. She is now aware of your location, in a way she never had previously.. She understands that you have the power to tarnish her flawless qualities."
Cassiathon sensed it well. A fresh deep exhaustion.. An intense concentrated gaze now locked onto him from the heart of the Abyss no longer inquisitive, but furious.
He had won a battle for the soul of memory. But he had painted the brightest possible target on his back.