The Fork was at harmony for three days.
Not peace. Not perfection.
But something close: a common rhythm that ran like breathing through roots, through memory, through people who no longer questioned if they belonged.
The Spiral Gathering had smoldered even in sleep, each piece of coal holding not heat, but existence. Passersby came and went through the spiral—some to sit and to share, others simply to sit in silence among others who also remembered.
Mika crossed the perimeters of the Grove without fear. Children dreamed of spirals because they could not understand.
Even Kaito, once filled with nothing but doubt, felt lighter. Not healed. But less alone in his burden.
And then the silence.
It didn't hit all at once. No warning, no break in the thread. No system flash, no threadlight overload.
Just the quietest wrongness.
Kael was the first to feel it—or, rather, not feel it.
