To call it a song was to simplify the sublime. As Bolt projected his consciousness through the Focusing Sphere, his very essence stretched thin across the unimaginable void, it became a pure, resonant wave of empathic intent.
He touched the first terrified mind, a lone Canid female on a distant moon, her spirit about to be extinguished by the overwhelming pressure of the Dominion Sigil.
He didn't send words; he sent the memory of Aethelgard's light, the feeling of Eva's unwavering loyalty, the simple, profound peace of a quiet stream.
It was like offering a single drop of water to a parched soul. Her fear did not vanish, but her spirit, which had been recoiling inward, found his resonant light and clung to it, her own inner strength flaring in response.
Then another mind, and another. A hundred. A thousand. Tens of thousands. Bolt became a conductor of a spectral orchestra, his Ahna'sara the baton, weaving threads of hope and resilience between these isolated points of dissent.
He felt them connect, not just to him, but to each other, their individual sparks of resistance coalescing into a shimmering, defiant network of light within the oppressive psychic architecture of Valerius's ritual.
They were no longer alone, and in their shared connection, they found a strength they hadn't possessed in isolation.
From Bolt's empathic vantage point, he could see what they saw: sterile, white chambers where Star-Seeker acolytes were held in meditative stasis, their bodies hooked to humming Progenitor devices that channeled their life force.
He felt their struggle as Valerius's Dominion Sigil tried to hammer their unique consciousnesses into a monolithic, unified shape.
His counter-song gave them a shield, a different harmony to cling to, allowing them to preserve the core of their identities.
But such a profound act of defiance could not go unnoticed.
A new presence entered the psychic space, so vast and powerful it was like a black hole appearing amidst a field of stars.
It was a consciousness of supreme arrogance, of chilling intellectual certainty, and it radiated a fury that was cold, precise, and absolute.
Valerius.
The Star-Seeker did not rage like Krell. He perceived Bolt's counter-song not as an attack, but as an impurity, a flaw in his perfect, grand design.
A wave of pure, psychic force, shaped by the Dominion Sigil's intent, washed through the network, designed to crush dissent, to extinguish hope, to enforce compliance.
On the bridge of the Seraphina Drift sanctuary, Eva watched in terror as Bolt's transformed body went rigid, a low groan of immense pressure escaping his lips.
The silver light of the Ahna'sara around him flickered violently, like a candle caught in a hurricane.
"His life signs are spiking," Elara warned, her hand hovering over a crystalline control panel.
"The physical strain of shielding so many minds against a direct psychic assault of this magnitude… he cannot maintain it for long."
Bolt felt Valerius's will battering his own. This was not a physical fight; it was a battle of philosophies made manifest.
The Dominion Sigil's song of absolute control clashed with the Ahna'sara's song of empathetic connection.
Bolt didn't try to win; he focused every ounce of his will on maintaining his counter-melody, on being a shield for the fragile network of dissent he had helped to foster.
But Valerius was a master of this domain. Unable to instantly crush the widespread resistance Bolt had bolstered, his immense intellect shifted focus with terrifying speed.
A tendril of his consciousness, sharp as obsidian, began to trace the threads of Bolt's song back through the void, seeking its source.
"He's tracing him!" the winged Aethelgardian sensitive cried out. "The shielding is holding, but the focus is immense!"
Bolt felt it, too – the chilling sensation of being hunted, of a vast intelligence sniffing his psychic trail across the light-years. The pressure intensified.
He was a beacon, and the tyrant had noticed his light.
"Bolt, he's found a thread! You must pull back, now!" Elara commanded, seeing a critical energy spike directed at their coordinates.
He knew she was right. To hold on longer was suicide. But just as he prepared to sever the connection, to retreat into the safety of the sanctuary, one mind within the network of dissent flared with unexpected strength and clarity.
It wasn't just resisting; it was disciplined, powerful, and it pushed back against Valerius with a skill that rivaled Bolt's own.
This mind locked onto Bolt's, and for a fraction of a second, a clear, direct message cut through the chaos, a voice not of words, but of pure thought, laced with urgency.
"They know. A Seed has Bloomed. The Oracle of Thune seeks you."
The message was a shock of cold water. Before Bolt could even process the name
"Oracle of Thune," Elara slammed her hand on the console. "Cut the link! NOW!"
A crystalline shield, powered by the sanctuary's core, flared into existence around the Nyxwing's docking bay an instant before a wave of invisible psychic force, Valerius's first long-range probe, slammed into it.
The entire asteroid sanctuary shuddered.
Bolt was thrown back into his own consciousness, the connection severed, the roar of a thousand souls replaced by the sudden, deafening silence of the observation dome.
He gasped, his body trembling, the name echoing in his mind.
The Oracle of Thune.
He had saved thousands from immediate psychic subjugation, but in doing so, he had placed a galactic target on his back.
And he had learned that somewhere in the firestorm of Valerius's own domain, an unknown but powerful potential ally was also aware of his existence.
The gambit had become infinitely more complex.