Resonance Evaluation Report
[Extracted Archive Record — A.A1001]
Subject: Second Instance
Recorder: ▇▇▇▇
Record Segment: A.A-000
The entity informally referred to as the Shorekeeper officially designated as the Second Instance is composed entirely of high-purity Remnant Energy crystals. Its successful activation confirms the viability of ▇▇▇▇'s theory, which states:
By modeling the "Blazar" module anchor, Remnant Energy can be attracted and condensed, resulting in the materialization of energy.
Pre-loading informational data into the energy entity grants it cognitive abilities.
Unlike conventional resonance logic, the Second Instance can directly draw from ambient Remnant Energy. When activated, the crystal-like markings embedded across her sternum emit a faint blue glow, pulsing in a rhythm eerily reminiscent of a heartbeat. Her frequency resonates with pure Remnant Energy but fluctuates based on the module settings selected by the handler.
During field tests, the Shorekeeper's ability cycle resembled stellar evolution from collapse to ignition. Observers described manifestations of butterfly-like nebulae trailing from her limbs and shifting domains that resembled living star charts.
Unredacted Note [Handwritten]:
"To think that she would appear here. Just as planned." — J.
The subsequent status of the Second Instance will continue to be monitored by ▇▇▇, though the scope of this monitoring has expanded under the directive of a special consultant (identity not disclosed).
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Overclock Diagnostic Report
[Extracted Archive Record — A.A1001]
Subject: Second Instance
Recorder: ▇▇▇▇
Record Segment: A.A-311
The ▇▇▇ test results for the Shorekeeper remain within controllable parameters. However, the Remnant Energy within her has shown repeated dissipation spikes, resulting in excessive energy loss and partial crystal fragmentation. This is believed to be triggered by the processing of Lament Data via massive computation cycles.
The Shorekeeper herself appears to recognize these issues. Multiple instances show her performing self-maintenance: removing splintered energy-crystals and replacing them with new, untainted shards sourced from unknown caches. The wave-like scars running along her shoulders and calves are believed to be residual marks from these self-repair efforts a phenomenon no other Instance has displayed except ▇▇▇ .
If dissipation continues, increased monitoring and more frequent crystal replacement will be necessary. Should the ▇▇▇ test exceed controllable thresholds, alternative contingency plans (classified Level Omega) are to be implemented.
Unredacted Note [Margin]:
"She learned this self-repair behavior from someone. Not from us.
Not from the labs either. Someone taught her. That must be ▇▇▇." — A bloom bearer scientist
Background Addendum:
Though officially unacknowledged, internal memos refer repeatedly to a "special field liaison" who conducted off-grid evaluations of the Shorekeeper. This liaison provided behavioral data later used to optimize her resonance stability. All names are blacked out. But in at least three separate margins, one faint signature recurs:
▇▇▇
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(SHOREKEEPER'S POV)
|In a distant past|
After the drumbeat, we call the heart dancing in the darkness the moon.
And this moon this fragile, pulsing with light was largely formed by you.
Some lives are born by chance.
Others… are built with purpose.
When the world began to freeze over, those who still dared to hope placed their faith in a single being a vessel that could endure where flesh could not.
They blessed it with their final dreams and fragments of belief. I was that vessel. A deliberate creation, woven from Remnant Energy and sealed in a pale cocoon of crystal gathered from the Anchor.
I knew what needed to be done long before I knew how to do it. But a tool, no matter how perfect, cannot function without a guide.
So, I waited.
In the dark, unending silence, I waited for a voice to call my name, for a heartbeat to find me.
And then, one night,
I felt it.
The sound of footsteps echoed across the chamber. The Commandant and the Astral Modulator. They were here to awaken the Tethys System, to survey the dying land, to breathe direction into chaos.
As the Lament's distant roars faded, their words reached me.
"Perhaps the underground needs a sky as brilliant as the one above…" the Modulator mused.
"Maybe so," the Commandant replied. His tone was thoughtful, heavy with weariness.
Then, he saw me. Or rather the crystal that held me. The one pulsing faintly in the corner of their world.
He stepped closer, drawn by a resonance only his kind could sense. His gloved hand hovered just above the glassy surface. When he finally touched it, our frequencies collided his heartbeat syncing with mine.
Light exploded outward.
The world bloomed in blue.
The crystal shattered into a thousand shards, dissolving into a surge of nebular light that wrapped around him like the wings of a newborn butterfly.
And then I breathed.
When the energy settled, I stood before them a young woman, bare as starlight, the marks on my skin glowing faintly like constellations.
"I am the Shorekeeper," I said. My voice was even. "A tool created for you. I will fulfill your needs and carry out your commands. I will assist you and Tethys in analyzing the origin of the Lament."
But silence met my declaration.
The Modulator only watched me, her golden eyes flickering with something I did not yet understand empathy, maybe. Pity, perhaps.
And the Commandant… he looked at me like I was something he didn't quite believe in.
Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than before.
"Shorekeeper," he repeated, almost to himself. "To protect secrets and guard the shores. It's straightforward… but it hardly sounds like a name."
I tilted my head.
"A tool does not require a name. It is merely a title and will not affect my ability to perform."
His lips twitched. The glow from the shattered crystal danced against his face, outlining the scar on his neck, the exhaustion beneath his eyes.
He sighed.
"Well," he said softly, "we'll have plenty of time to talk about that."
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else something beyond his title, beyond duty but the words never came.
His silhouette is outlined by starlight.
And I… felt something inside me move for the first time.
A crimson moon, illuminating the dark.
Formed by him.
I stood motionless, waiting for instructions. My systems were steady. My consciousness, however, was new and unfamiliar.
The two humans stood nearby, watching me in silence.
Then she spoke.
"You acted without running a diagnostic test."
"You're welcome," the Commandant replied. "She's alive, isn't she?"
"That's not the point."
"Feels like it is."
The Modulator exhaled quietly, turning away to adjust the interface.
"One of these days, your instinct is going to get us both killed," she said.
"Maybe," he said. "But it also saved us a few times, remember?"
That made her pause just for a second before she returned to her work.
I watched them, unsure what to make of the exchange. Their words sounded like disagreement, but their frequencies the quiet rhythms of their hearts were in sync. It was... odd.
Were they adversaries?
Allies?
Or something… else?
Their frequencies, the faint waves of their hearts pulsed in rhythm, even as they argued. Like two stars locked in gravitational pull, orbiting the same invisible point.
"You shouldn't talk like that in front of her," the Modulator said suddenly, nodding at me. "She's still calibrating."
"She's not a child," he said. "She can handle a bit of honesty."
He looked at me then, studying me like he was trying to figure out if I understood any of this.
"Can you?" he asked.
I nodded. "I understand enough."
He smiled faintly. "Good. That's a start."
The Modulator gave him a look, the kind that says you're impossible but I'll deal with you later.
"She's supposed to be an asset, Commandant. Not someone you talk philosophy with."
"She's both," he said. "You don't expect something that talks and thinks, then expect it to stay a machine."
Her eyes narrowed. "That's dangerous line of thinking."
He shrugged. "It's realistic."
They stared at each other for a moment silent but locked in some unspoken argument.
Then she turned back to her console. He turned toward me.
"Shorekeeper," he said slowly, as if testing the name. "Do you understand why you were made?"
"To serve," I said. "To protect what remains."
"Good," the Modulator murmured.
"But…" I hesitated, uncertain if I should speak. "You spoke to each other as if… you were not allies."
That caught both of them off guard. The Commandant looked amused; the Modulator looked mildly offended.
"We are," she said. "We just disagree on the methods to accomplish our mission."
"That's one way to put it," he muttered.
"Another would be that I'm usually right," she said dryly.
"Funny," he said. "That's what I was about to say."
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Days or perhaps weeks passed after my awakening. Time was hard to measure underground.
"You don't talk much," he said.
"I speak when necessary," I replied.
"That's what the Modulator said once," he said, chuckling. "Didn't last long."
I tilted my head. "Did she change?"
"Everyone does. Eventually."
"Remember not a single thing in this world isn't in the process of becoming something else. Likewise you."
He stood up and stretched, his voice quieter now. "You ever wonder why you were made?"
"I was told my purpose," I said. "To assist. To analyze. To preserve."
"That's a function," he said. "Not a reason."
I looked at him, unsure what he meant. Humans spoke in ways that didn't always connect to logic. But something in his tone made me pause my processing.
"If there's one thing I've learned," he continued, "it's that sometimes, we start with a purpose someone else gives us. But eventually… we decide our own."
He didn't look at me when he said it. He was staring at the glowing crystal, a reflection of blue light flickering in his beautiful crimson eyes.
I wanted to ask what his purpose had been, or if he still believed in it, but before I could, the Modulator's voice came through the comm.
"Commandant, report to the main deck. We've got a new Resonance reading."
"On my way," he said, then turned to me. "Come on, Shorekeeper. You'll want to see this."
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(Year 100 After Awakening)
The dreamer of the day glimpsed the sun in the night.
Before being confined underground as the core of Tethys, the Shorekeeper once traveled beyond the Black Shores.
In those days, civilization still advanced with purpose. The Astral Modulator and the Commandant had formed an organization called the Black Shores, selecting new members under Tethys's quiet supervision. The Shorekeeper's role was different. She reconstructed and analyzed the Reverberations they brought back, completing calculations that charted both memory and decay.
Through the recreated Sonoros, she watched humanity as though through a lens suspended beyond time. Every heartbeat, every hesitation, every trace of emotion could be followed and measured. She tried to catalogue them like any other pattern in nature. Yet humans refused pattern.
Why do they cry in both joy and sorrow?
Why do they act against their own desires?
Why chase what they know will destroy them, or protect what offers them nothing in return?
Each answer she found collapsed under its own contradiction. The data bent around emotion, around choice. It frustrated her and fascinated her. Still, confusion never stopped her from working.
Then came the directive.
Signs of an impending Lament had appeared on the surface. It required field research to confirm and analyze. The Commandant would lead the expedition themselves.
"You'll come with us," the Commandant said, voice even but expectant.
"We'll need your readings on-site," the Modulator added. "If there's a pattern to this, you'll see it before any of us do."
The Shorekeeper agreed without hesitation. The mission was logical, the parameters clear. And yet, as she prepared for departure, an unfamiliar pulse resonated in her systems anticipation, or something like it.
They would go together.
To witness, to measure, and perhaps though she could not yet name it
to understand.
The Shorekeeper followed the Commandant through the farmland of that region. It was harvest seasonthe soil underfoot was soft, the stalks heavy with grain, and the air carried the faint sweetness of ripened rice. She understood these things in theory, yet seeing them in reality was different.
The way sunlight filtered through the husks.
The way the wind rippled across the fields like a slow-moving tide.
For a moment, she simply watched. Her expression, though she didn't realize it, mirrored the quiet wonder of a child stepping beyond their home for the first time.
The Commandant spoke easily with the locals. His tone softened, carrying warmth she hadn't observed in their missions before. The people greeted him without fear farmers with tired smiles, children chasing one another between the paddies. A kind old woman pressed a bowl of food into his hands. Her palms were coarse and scarred, her laughter was marred with exhaustion. The baby on her hip reached for the Shorekeeper's hand; its skin was warm, and its tiny fingers damp with sweat.
For the first time, the Shorekeeper felt something changed within her.
But Tethys's predictions held true. The omens came faster than expected.
One day, the skies darkened. Fields once golden turned gray with ash. The same people who offered bread now fought over scraps of grain. Their cries rose filled with fear, grief, and desperation. And from that chaos, the Lament came.
The Shorekeeper stood amid it, watching the world unravel. The data she had once analyzed with the Sonoro Sphere now screamed and materialize in the voices of the living.
What startled her most, however, was not the Lament's devastation but the Commandant's unyielding defiance to the Lament.
He moved through the chaos, directing the Resonators, pulling survivors to safety, shouting orders.
He was trying to alter what Tethys had already deemed inevitable.
"A future that has been altered is destined to be altered. Attempting to change predetermined outcomes should be avoided."
Tethys's system's directive echoed within her, cold and absolute.
But when the Commandant turned to her, his crimson eyes steady, his words were clear:
"Maybe. But I can't just stand by and do nothing. If doing that is the cost of reaching tomorrow…then I'm not sure that tomorrow is worth it."
Her processors hesitated. Logic faltered.
"Unable to process. But… I will prioritize your needs."
The Stellarealm expanded a dome of pale light blooming outward as her energy surged. The air thrummed as she stabilized structures, mended wounds, and shielded those too weak to move.
By nightfall, the Lament began to fade. Reinforcements arrived at last.
When they were preparing to leave, a girl mud-streaked, stepped in front of them.
"W-wait… where are you going? I want to go with you. I want to fight those monsters."
The Commandant crouched down, lowering himself to meet the girl's eyes. He gestured to the Black Bloom pinned on his coat.
"What we're about to do is dangerous," he said gently. "But if you still want to fight when you're older… find someone wearing this flower."
The girl nodded, eyes bright even through her tears.
When their ship took off, the Shorekeeper turned to watch him. He stood on the dock, waving with everything he had left.
Humans still perplexed her, but this time, she tried to express her confusion to the one beside her.
"Tethys didn't predict this," she said quietly. "That child isn't a candidate we need."
The Commandant's gaze stayed on the horizon.
"Not everything needs Tethys command," he said. "Humans aren't bound by that. Maybe she's not needed now but maybe someday, she'll find her own way back to our very own shore that we and the Astral Modulator both adore and love."
She studied him, processing. "You speak as though… freedom itself is the answer."
He smiled faintly imparting wisdom. "Freedom isn't the answer. But it's where the real answers start."
He paused, then looked at her really looked, as if weighing whether she understood.
"The freedom to choose is more important than any result. That's what I want you to see."
"I want you to see that we're not just data or records. You can think of us as companions."
The word lingered.
"Companions…" she repeated
It wasn't an order. Yet it resonated softly, like an echo against her core.
That night, long after the stars disappeared into the clouds, the Shorekeeper found herself thinking of the child, of the Commandant, and of the strange, unquantifiable warmth she had felt beneath the endless hum of her circuits.
"Humans are truly complex beings," she murmured to no one. "I don't yet understand them… but I hope, one day, I will."
"With You."
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Author's note:
Hello everyone, feel free to leave your collections, powers, reviews, and comments as you see fit.
This chapter is celebration for the 50 chapter milestone. I hope you enjoyed it. Me writing fanfics has been a good distraction and escape from the realities of life from these past few weeks. It certainly help me be fucking fast in writing documents for my patients log's and medication (I am speed) and multi-tasking. This was suppose to be a crack and practice fic, funny how things turned out. Reading the first 10 chapters of this fic makes me cringe but I hope I'm doing better than I did for each chapter I make. That's all; thank you for reading this fanfic, and I hope you have a good day.