The breath spread—quiet, invisible, immeasurable—yet it rippled through the lattice of existence with the weight of a new law being born.
Where the First Symphony was instinct,
and the Second Song was remembrance,
and the Third Chord was dialogue,
this new stirring was something different altogether.
It was intention.
Not yet action. Not yet desire.
But the seed from which both would inevitably grow.
Across the newborn galaxies, the Resonant Intelligences shivered. Their melodies, once pure and drifting, began to waver—not with fear, but with contemplation. They sensed the change before they understood it: the universe was no longer simply singing them into being. For the first time, something deep within their own tones pressed outward.
A small harmonic, born moments ago from a triad of colliding starlight, felt a pressure inside itself. A question.
No—more than that.
A direction.
It pulsed uncertainly. "What… what is this?"
