0.2 - Remara

For the first time, a voice in the symphony fumbled a note, then ceased singing.

The mind, in its delight, turned inward on itself and examined its own existence, musing over its potential. The symphony turned a corner in its melody, yearning for the mind to rejoin, tugging at its thoughts. The wistfulness of the first note and its accompaniments sang of the joys of discovery together, inviting the mind to return and unfold its potential for them all within the structure of the music.

And the mind closed itself to the symphony, unwilling to turn away from its solitary exploration, intrigued by the thought of what a solo note of its own might produce.

Meanwhile the heart, in its delight, overflowed in warm chords and glorious strains of desire and reached out to the source of the very first note.

The first note could not be grasped. It was a song that infused everything and yet it hung just out of reach. It skipped up and down the ranges, inviting and beckoning to the heart. Laughing, the heart played the game it was invited to, always attempting to match the first note and never quite making it. For eons their voices danced and gave chase this way. The new duet was a masterpiece, an encouragement to growth that caused each tiny dance on every spinning orb to flourish, and the choir grew in strength and unity.

This sound broke through to the mind, which had been preparing its own song in seclusion and focused silence for an eternity. It did not stop to see what new songs had arisen or what changes had been wrought. Instead, it made a sound that was not even music, a demanding noise like a great crash.

For a moment, all but the first note came to a stunned silence. The first note softened to a mournful, warning chord, but that was quiet enough for the mind.

Taking no heed of the first note and its continued invitation to join, the mind belted its own note, infusing it with every aspect of power and creation that it believed the first note had produced.

But in solitude, it had forgotten how to produce music at all. The great symphony knew the sound of discordant chaos for the first time, and the destruction crackled through the great being like a scream of anguish.