[Português]
Capítulo 10 – O Fruto que Ouviu
As muralhas de polissílica da Cria??o-cora??o come?aram a vibrar em tons que n?o pertenciam a nenhuma linguagem conhecida. Aquilo que os habitantes chamavam de "Canto de Ressonancia" n?o era apenas som — era memória viva, uma assinatura acústica que atravessava tecidos, ideologias e barreiras simbióticas.
A Tríade, observando dos altos observatórios simbióticos de Vyralis, sentia o pulsar do evento em todas as suas sinapses coletivas. O Conselho dos Três, unidos por canais de pensamento compartilhado, analisava em tempo real cada nuance das vibra??es emitidas pelo Fruto chamado Vryss.
Ele n?o era apenas um Fruto, agora: era o epicentro de um fen?meno que nem mesmo os Primogênitos haviam registrado em eras anteriores.
— Está ressoando com padr?es da pré-Eternavir, comentou Aithyx, da Ordem Vermilion. — Esse Canto... n?o vem apenas do mundo, mas daquilo que está acima dele.
Os Carnomorfos, sempre ligados ao instinto e à verdade da carne, n?o comentaram. Eles sentiam. Sentiam a pele da Cria??o se arrepiar, as artérias vivas das Dungeons se contraírem, como se o próprio corpo da Eternavir estivesse se ajustando para ouvir melhor.
Na camara do Fluxo Pulsante, onde o tempo era medido por batimentos de cora??es simbióticos, um velho Cultivador murmurou: — Estamos ouvindo algo que nunca foi dito em palavras, mas sempre esteve escrito no sangue.
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A Tríade compreendia que este evento marcava uma bifurca??o inevitável. Vryss, aquele Fruto até ent?o designado como um ápice local, havia sido atravessado por um Canto que ecoava desde a Gênese das Linhas de Convergência. Ele n?o estava apenas ascendendo: ele estava respondendo.
O Conselho se curvou — n?o por submiss?o, mas por honra. Era raro. Era real. E estava além de seu controle.
O Fruto havia ouvido. Agora, a Tríade escutava.
[English]
Chapter 10 - The Fruit That Heard
The polysilica walls of the Heart-Creation began to vibrate in tones that belonged to no known language. What the inhabitants called the "Resonance Song" was not just sound—it was living memory, an acoustic signature that cut across fabrics, ideologies, and symbiotic barriers.
The Triad, watching from the high symbiotic observatories of Vyralis, felt the pulse of the event in all their collective synapses. The Council of Three, united by channels of shared thought, analyzed in real time every nuance of the vibrations emitted by the Fruit called Vryss.
He was no longer just a Fruit now: he was the epicenter of a phenomenon that even the Firstborn had not recorded in previous ages.
“It resonates with pre-Eternavir patterns,” said Aithyx of the Vermilion Order. “This Song… it comes not just from the world, but from that which is above it.”
The Carnomorphs, ever attuned to instinct and the truth of the flesh, did not comment. They felt it. They felt the skin of Creation crawl, the living arteries of the Dungeons contract, as if Eternavir's own body were adjusting to hear better.
In the Pulsing Flow chamber, where time was measured by the beats of symbiotic hearts, an old Cultivator muttered, “We are hearing something that has never been said in words, but has always been written in blood.
The Triad understood that this event marked an inevitable bifurcation. Vryss, that Fruit now designated as a local apex, had been traversed by a Song that had echoed since the Genesis of the Lines of Convergence. It was not merely ascending: it was responding.
The Council bowed—not in submission, but in honor. It was rare. It was real. And it was beyond their control.
The Fruit had heard. Now the Triad listened.