The golden orb of the first fragment floated silently in the chamber, a beacon of partial harmony amid the reduced dissonance. Gazing at it filled me with a strange mix of weariness and determination. The task was immense, but possible. We had touched a wound in the Veil and, in a way, had begun to heal it.
I consulted the light map in my mind, that imprint the Broken Sentinel had given me, now updated with the first fragment glowing with golden light. There were other points, other echoes that still flickered with the dissonance of the broken Monolith. I chose the next one based on the intensity of its echo. I felt its dissonance was different from the first, with a quality... cold and static.
"The next fragment is over there," I said, pointing in a different direction within the Source, indicated by the brightness on my mental map and the feeling of its particular echo. "Its dissonance feels... frozen. Rigid."
My companions nodded, ready. The experience with the first fragment had given us confidence, but also a clear understanding that each fragment would be a unique challenge. We left the first echo chamber, leaving behind the floating golden orb and the remnant of dissonance. The symphony of the Source enveloped us again, but now it held a new layer of familiarity.
We followed the trail of the cold, static echo. As we entered this new section of the Fountain, the crystalline landscape changed again. The white and golden light gave way to shades of deep blue and silver. The crystal formations didn't twist violently here; instead, they rose in angular, perfect structures, as if sculpted from ice. The air became noticeably colder, and the Fountain's hum took on a high, piercing quality, like the cracking of ice under pressure.
Navigating here required a different kind of concentration. The fragment's frozen echo didn't fluctuate chaotically, but it was difficult to discern due to its rigidity, like trying to find a still spot in the middle of a fast-moving current. The currents of Source energy in this area seemed to move in predictable, yet swift and sharp patterns, like shards of ice.
We encountered new types of guardians in this frozen, crystalline place. Entities made of blue light and ice, with sharp forms and icy movements. Their rhythms were precise and sharp, like the crack of breaking ice. They were fewer in number than the Crystal or Shadow Guardians, but their attacks seemed to slow our movements and numb our senses.
We had to adapt our tactics, focusing on quick, coordinated movements to avoid their paralyzing attacks and strike at their vulnerable spots, which glowed with an intense blue light. Maelle discovered that applying heat (using a simple chemical reaction she'd learned to improvise with scavenged materials) could momentarily destabilize them, a tactic we incorporated into our combat.
We also faced environmental challenges linked to cold and rigidity: icy surfaces that made us slip, passages blocked by barriers of crystalline ice that we had to find a way to melt or break, and icy air currents that tried to deflect us.
In the midst of this search, Sciel found inscriptions etched into the ice-crystal walls, made of a dark material that contrasted sharply with the blue light. They were ancient, written in a language he recognized as an archaic variant. He worked feverishly to translate them. "They speak..." he said, his voice trembling slightly from the cold and emotion. "They speak of the 'Master of Form.' One of the original architects of the Monolith. How he tried to... protect it from dissonance."
We overcame the challenges, the cold penetrating our bones, our muscles numb, but our determination unwavering. The frozen echo of the second shard grew louder, guiding us through the maze of crystalline ice.
Finally, we reached a vast cavern with a high ceiling, its walls covered in intricate sculptures of ice and light. In the center, suspended in the air, floated the concentration of dissonance we were seeking. It was more compact than that of the first fragment, with a rigid, silent quality, as if the sound itself were trapped in ice. It was the second fragment of the Monolith.
I approached him, feeling the intense cold that radiated, not only physically but also rhythmically, a sense of stagnation, of 'frozen memory.' My companions stood close, ready.
I closed my eyes, concentrating on the frozen echo. It was a dissonance that didn't scream pain, but contained it, encapsulating it in rigidity. I extended my rhythmic strands, searching for the residual vibration of harmony, but this time, my intent wasn't just to bridge the gap, but... to break the ice. To melt the rhythmic rigidity with my own fluidity, my adaptability.
It was a different effort than the first. It wasn't a struggle against resistance, but against inertia. I felt the rigidity of the echo, its refusal to change, to flow. I had to use more strength, more rhythmic persistence to penetrate its icy shell. It was like trying to awaken something that had fallen asleep in pain.
My temples throbbed with the exertion. I felt the rhythmic cold try to numb my own perception, slow my inner pace. But I pushed against it, injecting my own fluidity into the rigid dissonance.
Slowly, the concentration of dissonance began to react. The chill it emitted diminished. The static silence gave way to a low whisper, like thawing ice. The rigidity began to crack.
And then, the frozen dissonance dissipated, releasing its captured echo. A pure, golden light emerged from it, forming a second orb, smaller than the first, but just as brilliant. It floated in the air, its warm light contrasting with the cold surroundings.
I stumbled, my mind exhausted from the effort of breaking the rhythmic rigidity, but a new wave of that strange satisfaction washed over me. We'd done it. The second fragment was connected.
I approached the golden orb, touching it. A new wave of information flowed into my mind: images of the Source's construction, the rhythmic plans that supported it, and a face, that of the 'Master of Form' from the inscriptions, imbuing the crystals with protective patterns before the catastrophe. And the sensation... of a desperate attempt to stem the tearing.
The mental map updated again. The second fragment glowed with golden light. The other echoes seemed to resonate a little more clearly, as if the choir of the broken Monolith were slowly finding their voices.
We had found and 'connected' the second fragment of the Primeval Monolith. Each fragment seemed to hold a piece of history, a memory of the Fracture and what the Monolith represented. The task was still vast, but with each connection, the picture became a little clearer.
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