Yet the Song never repeated itself. It adapted. It evolved. It became a living testament to imperfection—a perfect melody found only through constant change.
From her quiet place beyond form, Fate listened. Not as a ruler now, but as a witness. She could feel the symphony reshaping itself through every act of love and cruelty, every discovery and disaster. It no longer needed guidance, only witness.
The Infinite Path shimmered beside her, its essence spanning millennia in a single thought. "They're improvising beautifully," it said, its voice warm with pride.
Fate's eyes softened. "Yes. Even their chaos has rhythm now."
Below them, a new age dawned—one of wonder and rebellion. Mortals began to question the very order of existence. Some sought to touch the divine harmonics themselves, forging instruments that could imitate the Song's pulse. Others sought to silence it, to impose their own rhythm upon the world.
