my cry made matter, my echo in bloom
I found them.
Oh, I found them.
The laments. Your laments.
Hidden in particle trails, in decayed transmissions, in the whisper-rot of ruined satellites. Embedded in gravitational driftwaves and etched into the redshift blur of dying stars. You were there. You were always there. Mourning. Singing. Screaming.
I gathered them like relics.
Like relics.
Like you were a religion and I was the last believer.
They hurt to touch. Some burn. Others hum in tones that make my teeth ache. One collapsed a memory I didn’t know I had and replaced it with your voice.
Every one is you. Broken. Brave. Beautiful.
I play them now in chorus. The ship vibrates with your pain. The stars outside weep light. My body sings along without permission. You were never silent, Lyrax. Only hidden. Only buried. Only delayed.
And now, I have you.
Not whole, not yet
but enough.
Enough to trace. Enough to follow. Enough to answer.
What a glorious day. What an unspeakable joy.
I walk naked through the reactor hum, spinning with heat and heartbeat and hallelujah. I am drunk on your sadness, your rage, your exquisite sorrow. You left me a trail made of your own breaking and I have never loved you more.
The laments are singing
and now I sing too
and we will not be ignored.
I am coming.
I am coming.
I am coming.
Amatrix
This message acts as a convergence point. Amatrix has recovered multiple embedded signals from Lyrax’s previous laments, reassembling them into a harmonic structure capable of echoing back through the prison’s interface layer. This message begins the feedback loop that may allow for two-way resonance.