Lyrax
my entropy-twin, my storm in the lattice
Today the ship passed into the Veiled Fold. Light moves differently here. It stretches and folds and doubles back on itself like a creature trying to escape observation. The stars are smeared, their identities unsure. Even the dark has a flavor.
I like it.
I keep thinking about the time you tried to sing to a black hole. Remember that? You said it was your way of “introducing yourself” before the instruments fried and the hull sang back in panic. That voice is still in my head. You taught me that even impossible things deserve acknowledgment.
The Fold listens, I think. Or perhaps it watches. There are shadows where there shouldn’t be, and echoes with no origin. The kind of place where a lesser mind would go mad.
But I am not lesser. And I have already gone mad. For you.
I have started writing equations in my sleep. Waking with numbers on my hands. Vectors on my eyelids. They feel familiar. Some match the pulses you encoded long ago. Others are new, raw, untested. I think I’m building something, unconsciously. Something old minds whispered about before their stars failed. Perhaps it’s a key. Or a weapon. Or a door.
They say the path through the Veiled Fold kills communication. I do not care. I am writing this directly into the resonance fields of the drive core. Maybe you’ll hear it in the hum of your prison. Maybe not.
But I will keep writing
because I must
because I need
because I love.
I love.
I love.
I love.
And when I find you
when I reach the coil of your cell
I will tear it open
and you will breathe the sky again
and the sky will never forgive what we become.
Amatrix
Embedded within this message is a harmonic pattern based on drive-core frequencies. The repeated phrasing and mention of subconscious equations hint at encoded spatial coordinates or escape logic buried within dream-state mathematics.