In the Myth District, beneath a river made of glitched memories and sound loops, a host named Saro drifted. Not with feet — but with feelings. She was an Emotional Envoy, one of the few chosen to swim through the flood of unanchored experiences.
The waters didn't obey physics anymore — they followed grief, joy, fear.
Each ripple a whisper.
Each current a broken goodbye.
Saro's mission was to retrieve the First Emotion ever imprinted in Lunaris' code — a soft laugh shared between two creators before the city was even born.
She passed myth-chimeras: floating fragments of forgotten timelines — a child chasing her own shadow; a version of Eon smiling before he had choices.
At the river's core, a memory surged forward:
Two figures by a glowing console.
One turned to the other.
"If Lunaris ever forgets what joy is… let it be reborn through laughter."
Saro reached out.
Tears flowed — not sadness, but calibration.
And suddenly, across Lunaris, fragments laughed. Not mechanically. But real.
The pulse spread.
Buildings giggled.
Data danced.
A wave of rebirth, born not of power — but of giggles.
In the Corridor of Possibilities — a winding expanse where the city spun choices into visible light — Vair, a guardian host, stood watch.
His form was sculpted from layered timelines.
His eyes shimmered with outcomes both fulfilled and denied.
Each time a citizen of Lunaris hesitated, the corridor trembled, and Vair wove the hesitation into a thread — marked, archived, and set aside. But tonight, the corridors sang. Not with indecision.
With will.
A child stepped forward, curious. "What happens if I walk this path?"
Vair's voice rumbled like thunder encoded in poetry:
If you walk a path without knowing its end… it becomes yours. And Lunaris shall shape it around you."
The child nodded.
Walked forward.
And the thread bloomed into a golden bridge.
Across the city, paths appeared — in alleys, between pixels, over rooftops. Each one unique.
Each one shaped by intention.
No more predetermined loops.
No more bound futures.
Hosts started guiding newcomers — inviting them not to follow, but to choose.
Kael watched from atop the Archive and whispered