Chapter 134: The Fracture of Elegy

Liora's awakening had rippled far beyond Lumeria. In the fringe-realms once untouched by peace, the tremors of her song unearthed slumbering echoes—spirits long thought consumed or sealed in the abyss. The balance Rei had fought to build was no longer merely being challenged—it was reacting.

From within the old dominion of the Broken Vault, a tear emerged: visible only to Sovereigns and those attuned to root-frequency spirit waves. Rei stood at the edge of the phenomenon, fingers trembling not from fear, but resonance.

"Noira, what's the harmonic reading?"

She squinted at the glyphboard. "Impossible. It's not one echo. It's nine—all overlapping. Layered grief. Like... a symphony written to cry."

Eirenne's tone turned grim. "That's not natural. Something, or someone, has weaponized sorrow."

The Lament Engine

At the breach's heart was a structure—silver and obsidian—pulsing like a heart mourning its own birth. Mireille, ever scientific, called it a Lament Engine: an ancient device once theorized to extract and broadcast the agony of fallen spirits into raw aetheric disruption.

"Who would create this?" she muttered, fingers dancing across spirit-encoded panels.

"Someone who knew the only way to destabilize harmony," Rei murmured, "is to invert empathy."

As they studied the Engine, a voice emerged—not spoken, but sung in disharmonic minor.

"Not all who were forgotten are dead. And not all who grieve seek healing."

The silhouette that emerged was cloaked in reverberations: a woman with cracked porcelain skin and bleeding black fire for hair.

She called herself Velmira—the Spirit of Elegy.

Velmira's Offer

Velmira did not attack.

She invited them.

To see a memory.

One by one, she pulled the group into a shared vision. The time before the Honkai's first surge. When spirits had courts, and Empathy was law. A time when Liora had once existed—by another name. A time Rei's past self, hidden within mortal birth, had once disrupted unknowingly.

"You are not new, Rei," Velmira whispered. "You are echo and cause. The Symphony you write now is an apology your soul has long tried to sing."

Confrontation Without Blades

Rei didn't answer in anger.

He stepped forward and let his core pulse.

"Then let this song be sung clearly."

Velmira raised her hands. "We are not enemies. But we are discord. That is our nature."

A battle began—not of weapons, but frequencies. Empathic resonance twisted into inverse patterns. Liora tried to stabilize the waves. Mireille adjusted the compensator. Eirenne sang counter-harmonies. Noira shielded.

At last, Velmira relented. Not defeated—but slowed.

She vanished into a spiral of silver ash.

But her words lingered:

"This world you build sings too loud. One day, someone will silence it—not out of malice, but mercy."

Aftermath

Rei stood silent long after the breach closed.

Liora approached, placing her small hand into his.

"You okay?" she whispered.

"No," he replied honestly. "But I will be."

The sky did not sing that night.

It wept.