The Council grafted a around his larynx—a ring of anti-causality. From that moment on, whatever Arvus sang would manifest, but only as ghost-light . He could still hum a planet into being, but it would have no gravity. He could still croon a moon, but it would cast no shadow. His creations existed, yet they did not matter . They were the echo of an echo.
And sometimes, in the deepest silence of interstellar space, probes pick up a faint, impossible frequency. A C-sharp. A thrum. A ghost-light star, flickering for just one microsecond. starmaker story arvus
The High Council of Makers—silent, logical beings of crystalline thought—issued a decree. Emotion is entropy. Art is inefficiency. Submit your throat to the Logic Loom. The Council grafted a around his larynx—a ring
"Remember."