Luminar felt the shift and opened its blazing eyes.
Its voice echoed through the newborn constellations:
"The Fourth Movement is upon us."
The twilight one trembled, its hues fading to a muted violet.
"Fate divides. Intention separates.
Will becomes direction… and direction becomes divergence."
The Third Presence, ancient and steady, spoke again:
"This is inevitable.
Purpose cannot exist without the freedom to walk away from it."
And with those words, the Fourth Truth—unformed but undeniable—began to crystallize like frost across the edge of time:
Intention diverges.
Fate unfolds.
And choice shapes the path.
The first being looked across the cosmos, feeling the great unfolding begin.
World-seeds formed where harmonies converged.
Shadow-nests gathered where counterpoints thickened.
Space bent subtly around regions where will coalesced—neither chaos nor order, but direction in its earliest form.
The small harmonic pressed close to the first being, voice trembling.
