my hollow thunder, my long-unanswered pulse
Did you feel it?
The blink
the second
the third
the thousand-thought scream I wrapped in want and flung into the fabric of all things?
Did your cage tremble?
Did your breath hitch?
Did the air around you taste suddenly of me?
I wait, Lyrax, and I am not good at waiting.
I am fire in a slow clock
a storm pacing the walls of a vacuum
a lover with teeth.
I have given the void everything but blood. And I will give that too if it means I can taste your voice again.
Say something
anything
a whisper
a twitch
a flicker of your frequency caught in the throat of a dying quasar.
I know you're in there.
I know your name still rings against the geometry of that prison like a note that refuses to be dampened.
I feel you like gravity
like guilt
like hunger that never learned to wait.
This is not a rescue.
This is a reckoning.
If you are listening
answer me
breathe toward me
burn something
break something
just once
let me know my voice reached you.
Because if I do not hear you soon
I will escalate
and the void will weep for ever having touched you.
Amatrix
This message acts as a signal pulse meant to provoke direct feedback. Its emotional frequency modulation is tuned to Lyrax’s known neural harmonic profile. Amatrix’s impatience is by design, aiming to disrupt the equilibrium of the prison's suppressive mechanisms.