Section I — Beneath the Riverlight
Morning came with a stillness that felt wrong.The river that usually sang beside Elaren Village now whispered in broken rhythm, as though the current itself were pausing to listen.
Leandros rose before dawn, drawn by the faint vibration that hummed through the soles of his boots. Each step toward the bank carried warmth—familiar, welcoming, yet heavier than before.When he crouched to touch the water, light bled outward from his fingertips, rippling in circles that refused to fade.
"You're… calling to something," he murmured.
He formed a bubble instinctively.Instead of floating upward, it sank beneath the surface, glowing brighter as it descended.The pulse beneath the river answered with a low chord that made the air shiver.
Unseen to Leandros, runes buried under the sediment ignited like veins of dawnlight, carrying his magic deeper than he knew.
Section II — The Scholar's Guilt
From a distant ridge, Eryndor Valen adjusted the focus of his crystal lens. Through its prism he saw the river blazing with subterranean fire.
"By the stars…"
He wanted to send a report—duty demanded it—but something inside him clenched.Every pulse from the river felt alive, almost sentient, as if the world itself were answering Leandros. Eryndor had studied the Codex long enough to recognize the pattern of Symphonic Resonance.Yet seeing it in motion stirred awe instead of fear.
"He's not summoning destruction," Eryndor whispered. "He's waking it."
His quill hovered above parchment, unsure whether to record or conceal.At last he wrote only one line:Observation suspended. Subject demonstrates harmonic empathy with the Veil.
Then he crushed the communication crystal in his palm.
Section III — The Sleepers of Stone
Far beneath the plains, where no sunlight had ever reached, the Aether Veins twisted through caverns older than the moon.There, entombed in crystalline shells, slept the remnants of a civilization that predated the Guild—a people known in legend as the Orison.
The Orison had vanished when the world grew too silent to hear their songs.Now, as Leandros's resonance spread, cracks threaded through their translucent coffins. Within, ancient eyes fluttered.
A whisper echoed through the caverns:
"The Breath returns. The Choir shall rise."
Dust lifted.Light bled upward.The Orison began to dream again.
Section IV — The Council in Shadows
In the Citadel of Auranthos, alarms of blue fire erupted across the observatory.Magisters gathered before the grand chart—a map of Phantasia woven from pure Aether.Threads of light converged upon a single glowing point: the southern riverlands.
Solmir Vael watched in grim silence.Beside him, Seraphine Drael's face was pale with awe.
"The Veins are active," she said. "We haven't seen a pulse like this since the Fracture."
Solmir nodded. "And it comes from a boy who doesn't yet understand what he's touching."
Another magister hissed, "If he breaches the Core, the Veil will collapse!"
Solmir turned, eyes cold.
"If he breaches it, the Veil may sing again. Do not mistake control for safety."
The room fell silent except for the rhythmic thrum beneath their feet—proof that Phantasia itself was stirring.
Section V — The Whispering Field
Leandros spent the day chasing echoes through the valley.Each time he formed a bubble, the surrounding grass bent toward it, as if drawn by invisible breath.When the bubbles burst, the air shimmered with fleeting images—cities of glass, stars born from sound, a woman whose face he could never quite see.
"Are you… memories?" he asked.The wind answered with a whisper that felt like words not yet invented.
At twilight he stood upon a ridge and released a dozen spheres at once.They floated into the sunset, glowing with his heartbeat.Each bubble pulsed in rhythm with the world—an orchestra of light, unheard but felt.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, the Orison stirred in time with his creation.
Section VI — The Deep Awakening
Night fell like velvet, and the earth exhaled.Across the continent, wells, springs, and lakes began to glow faintly from within.Fishermen fled in terror as water rose in pillars of light.In mountain caverns, forgotten runes reignited.
At the Citadel, the entire Guild watched the phenomenon spread across their star-map.Solmir whispered a prayer to Eidos.Seraphine's hands trembled as she traced the pattern.
"It's not destruction," she said. "It's harmony. Every vein is matching the frequency of the boy's Arcana."
Solmir's eyes glinted.
"Then the Song of Creation lives again… and the world is about to remember its own name."
Section VII — The Voice from Below
As Leandros slept by the riverbank, a single bubble drifted from his open hand and settled on his chest.Inside it, light spiraled, forming runes older than speech.A voice—not heard but felt—echoed through his dreams.
"Child of Breath… you awaken what we lost. The world remembers because you imagine. Guard your wonder, for it will be coveted."
Leandros stirred, eyes opening to a sky filled with drifting bubbles that mirrored the constellations above.The pulse beneath the world slowed, steady, alive.
And from the farthest depths, through stone and song alike, came the faintest refrain of an ancient melody—the first note of a world learning once more to sing.