The Spine Mountains kept their secrets locked in stone. Elyas, formerly a hermit, was now heading the small group of armed Stewards—Bianca, Leo, and some guards skilled in both regular and cyber warfare. They were moving silently, the only noises being the crunch of frost and the wind whistling through what seemed like frozen lightning coming out of the rock.
The fissure where the Starving folks had their reactor was now only fungus and fallen rocks in complete silence, all because Joan was doing her thing remotely. But Elyas believed that there was something beyond. They were only a sign, he said, his breath turning to fog. The mountain is infected deeper down. There is... a rumbling. Not in the rock. In some old dream.
They reached a ledge looking down a steep cliff. Elyas motioned down. There, in a shadowed fold of the mountain, was a thing that seemed out of place. It resembled a massive, black gland, pulsing slowly with an ugly, violet light that looked like Wilder's Void-Nectar.
The Pineal Atrophy, Leo whispered, identifying it from the Symbiote narratives. The god's third eye. Where it saw time, fate… its own end. It should be asleep. Like stone.
It's dreaming, said Elyas. A sick dream. The switch slowed the heart, but it couldn't get to this. This place... is dreaming about the end that didn't happen. Stuck repeating the wait for it. And its dream is leaking out.
Bianca felt it then—a terrible feeling coming out of the black gland. Not pain or memories. Just dread. Like waiting for everything to fall apart. It made her want to hide and disappear. The guards became nervous, grabbing their weapons as if they were to fight something invisible.
This is the source, Leo said. The shaking of the earth, the strange mold, the desolate areas... it is all coming from this... this sick dream. The god's panic attack, stuck in time.
Could we cut it out? Bianca asked, trying not to run.
It's connected to a big system, Leo said. If we remove it, it might set off a chain reaction that could either wake the whole thing or kill it for good.
If so, we have to fix the dream, Bianca said, understanding how insane that sounded. How do you fix a nightmare in the mind of a sleeping continent?
They decided to retreat and set up a camp. That night, with the purple light from the atrophy shining on the clouds, Bianca had an important talk with distant people. She needed Maxine's perspective on divine brains, Lucien's knowledge of body systems, and… someone who could reach the non-dread part of the god.
Two days later, a weary runner brought an answer. It was a message from all of them.
Maxine wrote: The Pineal Atrophy is stuck on repeat with bad thoughts. It needs a feeling of being done, not just stopping. The Lobe's last command: GROW. That's what keeps things going. We have to send that message.
Lucien said: I worked out what the atrophy is signalg. It is like a stress hormone. We can build something to combat it if we use the calmness from the Pancreatic Reclamator (a place for peaceful thought) and the good mold networks.
And from the Silent Sea, Cassandra Vaughn sent a brief note: The Choir remembers when the god felt good after finishing something. I can bring that song.
They were going to perform a mind trick. A group intervention to soothe a dying god's nightmare.
On the Bianca's command, they started.
One of the deepest, green-gold waves of keep going to the violet light was sent by Maxine's signal thing.
Lucien's team released the mist, which covered the black gland like a soothing lotion.
And Cassandra sang. Not loud, but the memory of a sigh after finishing a job. The feeling of good enough.
The violet light flickered. The pulsing was all over the place. The dread in the air faded, replaced by confusion, then a slow calm. The black gland didn't get better. It just... stopped screaming. The light faded to gray. The loop was broken.
The mountain didn't shake. The world didn't change. But a deep, mind poison had been stopped. The god's frozen panic attack was over.
They were leaving, Elyas looked at the quiet atrophy and said. It'll dream again, he said. But maybe now, it'll dream of moss on rocks. Of slow things. It's a nicer way to be.
They left the mountains and went down, leaving the highest, coldest wound to heal in silence. They understood that healing was not only about bodies or society. It was also about dreams. And some dreams, for something this big, take a long time to change.