Notes of Sorrow

Location: Gaia HQ – Infirmary Ward

The melody that had once brought light now echoed with unease.

Sylvia sat on a sterile bed, one hand pressed gently to her temple. Despite stabilizing Sector 17, the harmonic energy had left her drained. Every note she resonated with Orisha now whispered of something darker—something corrupted.

Across from her sat Iris Synthesis 14, healer and spiritual paladin of Gaia. Calm as ever, her silver hair draped gently over her shield-shaped earrings as her hand hovered above Sylvia's chest, light flowing from her palm.

"There is a discord in your soul," Iris said quietly. "A trace of something not your own."

"The echo…" Sylvia murmured. "It spoke to me. It was twisted… like someone imitating my voice. Like a song reversed."

Iris frowned. "It wasn't just backlash from resonance. Someone—something—is trying to mimic your frequency."

Sylvia nodded, her voice thin. "Then it means we weren't alone in that rift."

Location: Abyss Scar Canyon – Rift Chamber

In the abyssal winds where the last battle raged, a new figure stepped through the veil. Sorrel Vain, Codename: Ashchant, Chaos General of Orion, trailed his finger through the air as dark notes spiraled upward.

"Sylvia's resonance was… intoxicating," he purred, his tone sultry and maddening. "What a voice she has. But can she match my scream?"

Behind him, a pack of Echo Jesters screeched, their laughter distorted with warped sound.

"Erebus says harmony must fall. Let's drown her song with sorrow."

Location: Gaia HQ – Training Hall 3

Cyg stood alone, facing a holographic target. His Gunblade, Aetheron, clicked open with a hum. His shots were perfectly timed, precise—every motion calculated.

Yet his rhythm was off.

Sylvia's weakening had shaken him. Not because of her condition… but because he'd felt something—fear. Not strategic, not predictive. Emotional.

"You're hesitating," said a voice.

Eun-Ha stepped in, her presence serene but heavy, dressed in her white robes trimmed in soft gold. Her cross staff Solmaria rested at her side.

"You've been different since Arc 8," she said. "Since you opened your walls."

Cyg didn't answer.

"Love changes us," Eun-Ha whispered. "But don't let it break your aim. Let it sharpen your purpose."

"You're projecting," he replied, but his voice had no bite.

"Maybe," she said, offering a soft smile. "But you're not as alone as you think."

Location: Training Arena – Thea's Observation Tower

The Octagon gathered for emergency review. Sylvia, despite her condition, stood among them, arms crossed, eyes steeled. The corrupted resonance was too specific—someone from Orion was targeting her frequency.

Charlotte projected the harmonics onto a display.

"This section," she pointed, eyes sharp, "is a literal inversion of Sylvia's chorus. Like a forged note written in shadows."

Elaine floated beside her, wind swirling around her as she frowned. "That's not just mimicry. That's sabotage."

Mia stepped forward, Lexigra glowing faintly.

"Let me help. I can inscribe a counter-harmony using my creation force."

Sylvia glanced at her, touched. "Mia… it might hurt you."

"And letting you carry everything alone doesn't?"

Silence passed through the room.

Then Thea nodded. "Prepare yourselves. If Orion is sending Ashchant, then this isn't just another strike. This is a performance war."

Location: Orion HQ – Rift Echo Stage

A dark, vast cathedral carved into the abyss trembled as Sorrel Vain rehearsed. His voice rang like a violin being tortured—raw, haunting, chaotic. Shadow-like strings flowed from his hands, wrapping the Echo Jesters.

"Soon, sweet Sylvia," he sang. "We'll compose a requiem just for you."

Location: Gaia HQ – Personal Quarters, Late Night

Sylvia stood on her balcony again, the same place Cyg had spoken to her nights ago. But this time, she was alone.

Or so she thought.

"Still trying to hear the world?" Cyg's voice echoed from behind.

She smiled faintly but didn't turn. "It's quiet tonight."

"Because you're scared to sing."

Sylvia inhaled slowly.

"The notes aren't just music anymore. They carry memory. My father's voice. My mother's lullaby. Even the screams from Sector 17. I can't tell where I end and Orisha begins."

He stepped beside her.

"You're not your trauma. Or your song. You're Sylvia."

She glanced at him. "And you're… surprisingly warm tonight."

He looked away. "I'm processing."

She chuckled. "Badly, but I'll take it."

Their fingers brushed briefly—almost accidental, but both didn't pull away.

"Then let's face the next verse together," she whispered.

"Harmony and logic," he said, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Might just be our strongest weapon."