Fractal governance took root amid the chaos, a decentralized web where citizens voted on KFR parameters via encrypted pulses—multiplier caps, valence weights, blind-spot tolerances. Kalypsis Tower morphed into a neutral hub, its board replaced by rotating citizen councils. Liora stepped back as figurehead, her broadcasts now forums for debate rather than decree.
Arin coordinated the transition from a crowded command floor, now open to vetted observers. "First vote: sensitivity at 7,500-fold," he announced, watching the global tally climb. Positives held slim majority, tempering the raw ten-thousand but preserving revelation.
Elias streamed from the floor, his fractals now official models. "Democracy tempers the god. But watch for capture."
Riftmother's remnants lurked in the margins, their crimson threads diluted but persistent—subtle psy-ops nudging votes toward instability. A test cluster hit a council session: amplified doubts causing deadlock on privacy reforms. Returns manifested as data leaks, eroding trust anew.
Liora intervened with a hybrid fix: citizen-juried quarantines, where locals isolated rogue coherences. It worked—fringe cults frayed under peer scrutiny.
Weeks in, metrics stabilized: altruistic clusters blooming reliably, malice routed to personal reckonings. The bay outside calmed, its waves steady.
But Arin uncovered the pivot: Riftmother, captured in a drowned raid, confessed under amplified truth-serum returns. "Not war," she rasped. "Preparation. The true knot forms beyond your grids."
Scans confirmed it—a colossal prismatic braid in the uncharted wilds: nomadic tribes, orbital holdouts, deep-sea communes, unbound by feeds. Pure humanity, cohering toward unknown ends.
Liora gazed at the map's edge. "Act I was awakening. Act II tests control."
Arin nodded. "They test us all."
As councils debated outreach, the wild knot pulsed—first contact imminent. Governance held, but the return's heart beat free.