A WORLD WITHOUT MASTERS

The sky split open at dawn.

Not with thunder, nor with light—but with a song. A vibration too old to be music and too intentional to be wind. It washed over the newly-formed valleys of the Forkroot like a memory bursting from a vault.

Kaito stood quietly beneath it, his eyes closed, not trying to hear the sound itself—but what it meant. He wasn't listening to the noise, but to the feeling behind it.

The quiet hum in the air wasn't just sound—it was a warning, a message wrapped in silence. Something was coming. Something that hadn't yet shown itself, but was already changing the world around him.

The world was singing back.

For the first time since he had generated the anomaly, he sensed its pulse shift not in response, but in reaction. 

The Fork was waking to itself. 

Nyra walked along the edge of a cliff behind him, arms crossed, eyes scanning the churning landscape below.