The fallout was immediate and twofold.
Initially the Resonant Compact intensified. The collective event known as the "Real-Memory Pulse" forged a connection than any formal agreement. Each person experienced the releasing, agonizing reality. Survivors, from communities mentioned feeling a greater sense of togetherness. The Compact transformed from a defensive alliance into a unified cultural identity.
Second the Abyssal forces ceased their reconnaissance. Started to mobilize seriously. Intelligence from scouts revealed large-scale troop deployments, not targeting settlements but gathering at a central rallying location in the desolate heartlands. Raziel was assembling a field-ready army for the first time since the original collapse. This was, beyond trials or conversions. This was gearing up for a war aimed at destruction.
Within the mountain the atmosphere changed from defense to somber readiness for a siege they could possibly fail to endure.
"The Queen has forsaken subtlety " stated the Angel of Death examining the charts. "You have shown resistance to her doctrines and the ability to undermine her methods. You now represent a threat, to her whole scheme. She will arrive with power to obliterate this mountain the Compact and you entirely."
"Is it possible for us to prevail in a one-on-one battle, against that?" Morgan inquired, gesturing towards the projected legion numbers.
"No " the Angel replied plainly. "Not at this place. Not, in a battle of strength."
"Then we refuse to provide her with one " Cassiathon said. He had remained silent since the Engine preserving his energy contemplating. "We rely on what we've established. The Compact isn't merely an organization to protect. It's a system of connections. A nervous system. We prevent her from concentrating her forces in a location. We compel her to engage in hundreds of battles spread across a thousand miles simultaneously."
It was a guerrilla war on a continental scale. An insane idea.
"We lack the command framework " Sierra remarked,. A flicker ignited in her eyes.
"We possess the resonance " Cassiathon responded. "What if we engineered a… a form of what I accomplished? Not to transmit memory. To transmit intent? A protected psychic system, for collaboration. Celeste, Kuro—can this be achieved?"
Celeste appeared dazed. "Perhaps… if concentrated. A web, not an explosion.. It would require core hubs. Anchors, as you mentioned. For the network, as a whole."
Kuro was already drawing patterns in the air with light. "A telepathic semaphore network. Employing figures in important towns, as signal points. The Mountain serving as the center. Dangerous. If the Queen manages to block or tamper with it…"
"It's a gamble we must accept " Cassiathon remarked. "It's our edge—our capacity to be present everywhere simultaneously, in spirit if not physically."
The scheme, named "The Ghost Web " was formulated. Celeste and Kuro guided by the Angel's advice on equilibrium started crafting the psychic grid. Sierra and Morgan handled the protection for the intended relay-persons—typically the prominent or highly esteemed members, within each Compact faction.
Tania and Jareth managed the conversion of the mountain into a stronghold that would function as a command hub, storing provisions and readying for any emergencies.
Cassiathon on the hand had one final task to complete. He went in search of his father within the mountains innermost chamber, a spot where the walls remained rock and the atmosphere was ancient.
"I have to become stronger " he stated directly. "Not, about control. About power. The Ghost Web, battling over distances… it will exhaust me. The ultimate battle when it arrives will require all I have. I must grasp the extent of what I am. Not only the splice. The possibilities."
The Angel looked at him. "Going further entails risking the balance you've maintained. The Weaver mentioned you were an equilibrium. Enhancing the strength of either side threatens to create an imbalance that might overwhelm you."
"I understand the danger " Cassiathon replied, meeting his fathers eyes. ". If I don't act we fail. Everyone dear, to me. Dies or turns into a grinning sculpture in her exhibit. I'd choose to blaze out as myself than disappear as her trophy."
The quiet lingered. The Angel observed the determination, the willingness to embrace a martyr's fate if required. He responded with a solemn nod.
Next we shall proceed to the brink. To the spot where Death meets the origin of everything. The Silent Apex. It is a realm of possibility before possibility turns into deed. It is where I journey to recall my intention. There you might witness the range of your essence… if you can withstand the quiet.
It was the ultimate test. A journey not across space, but into the fundament of existence itself.
Cassiathon exhaled slowly. "At what time do we depart?"
"Now " the Angel declared. "The tempest approaches. We cannot afford to delay."
He extended his hand. The gloom of the room intensified, not into Abyssal taint but into something more ancient more pristine and endlessly more silent. A gateway to the origin, before the origin.
Cassiathon stepped forward, into the absolute silence, to find the strength for the end.