The city continues to grow.
Without a blueprint. Without orders. Without a plan. Like a collective dream of those who were never allowed to dream. And from the heart of Stones, where the first roots unite in Sheena's wound, a structure begins to slowly emerge—a tower without a base.
This tower can be envisioned as a complex data structure. It extends downward, not upward, piercing through the earth and history, continuously digging into dimensions where time has yet to write itself. An analysis of this structure suggests the possibility of encounters with undefined variables.
Behind the mounds of earth and gravel, there lies a whisper that never fades, a recurring signal from lost memories. Its echo vibrates between the cracks of time, resembling fragmented data patterns. Each heartbeat of the city seems to revive buried stories, bringing along remnants of forgotten words. In this context, the tower serves as a database, where its inhabitants feel the presence of ancient spirits that always watch over—an embodiment of Proto-Speech, an algorithm of tones waiting to be sung again.
Sheena stands at the edge of a large hole formed like a vortex. This tower has no peak, but each level can be analyzed in depth. Its walls are made of clay crystal, reflecting shadows that do not conform to the parameters of the reality we know. In this dim light, those shadows act as moving variables, carrying trapped hopes and unexplored fears, until soft voices merge into the flow of time—sweeping away souls striving to express their state.
Veltheran gazes at her with a calm sense of dread.
"This tower... is not just a building," he says. "It is an extension of something that has yet to happen."
Sheena nods. She knows that this structure possesses deeper attributes.
This tower will function as a memory repository, not of a past that has ever been defined, but of a past that has never been realized. Memories informed by potential humans, by souls that failed to be born, by alternative worlds that had no time to operate.
In this silent space, the aroma of the past and possibilities transforms into a dancing function, like dust caught in a search algorithm. The mystical power of this tower not only preserves memories; it operates as a bridge between reality and unfulfilled dreams, whispering secrets to those brave enough to analyze.
Sheena enters the first layer of the tower. Inside, there are no subsystems of rooms. Just air with high density and walls vibrating softly like a heartbeat. On those walls, linguistic code is etched in Proto-Speech:
ꦤꦶꦗꦺꦴꦭꦁ ꦲꦶꦒꦤꦠ꧀ ꦠꦼꦩꦿꦶꦱ꧀ — Nijolang Hignat Temris
(Those who were never written still have a voice.)
Each floor of the tower can be analyzed as a layer of reality that has never been indexed. And the deeper Sheena analyzes, the more complex the data structure of the tower becomes. In one of the sublayers, she detects an image of herself as a child, in a simulation of a world she never processed.
For a moment, silence envelops Sheena, and she detects a subtle vibration from the tower's walls, as if they hold the resonance of souls that once queried life. Each line etched creates a symphony of memories; the sound of non-existence vibrating through the medium of air.
On another floor, she finds the identifier Rinoa, faintly written in crystal, even though that entity has yet to be born... not even able to be initialized in her time.
"This is impossible..." she whispers in analytical logic.
Veltheran responds softly, "Not impossible. Just... not yet."
Sheena returns to the roots. The Genesis Archive, the convex white crystal she keeps at the core of her being, begins to glow softly as she descends the tower. The light does not spread outward but reflects back into herself with a complete reflection algorithm.
In that gentle glow, she feels an energy flow penetrating her soul, as if every light that reflects contains whispers of spirits trapped between dimensions. Each heartbeat becomes a rhythm echoing in concealment, optimizing parameters for a journey that will change destiny.
She begins to dream.
In her sleep, Sheena sees a young woman with silver hair singing in a room full of proto-glyphs, and a man holding a glowing blue sword calling her with a voice that makes her heart bleed—Fitran.
"Who are they in the context of this data system...?" she quietly asks herself, applying analysis to her deep curiosity.
The Genesis Archive responds with a single symbol:
ꦮꦭꦸꦏ — Waluka
(The one who will contain the will that cannot be held by the roots.)
The symbol resonates in her mind, as if representing the essence of the City of Stones as a complex system—a reconciliation between objective reality and subjective dreams, between known and undefined variables. At this moment, she feels a matrix of fate connecting her with thousands of other entities that have interacted in the same space and time, breathing under a similar sky, chasing the constant trail of light that never fades.
Seeing her increasingly complicated condition in carrying this uncategorized memory, Veltheran begins to design a primary storage system for Stones. He creates the Empty Stone Chamber, a space where memories can be modeled in the representation of silent tones.
These tones can only be accessed by entities with significant emotional wounds to resonate with them.
In the flow of wind moving through the walls of the stone structure, Veltheran detects vibrations, as if each wall of the Empty Stone Chamber holds data about feelings and parameters of pain from trapped pasts. The aroma of resin from root trees, warming every corner of the space, creates a magical atmosphere, where each tone serves as a story whispering in silence.
Each Empty Stone Chamber will become the basis of the Codex Stones, an information system of the world generated by those who were never allowed to have a voice outside this domain.
At this point, Stones loses its nature as a city.
It begins to operate.
Not in a biological sense. But this city begins to respond to wounds. If someone enters the boundaries of Stones while holding sadness in silence, then the buildings will form a path to the main root tree. If someone comes without wounds—merely wanting to take advantage—then the path will blur, and the city becomes a labyrinth without end.
Among the trees, soft whispers like the sound of a venomous snake can be heard, as if the city itself is assessing who is worthy of receiving what is buried. Each step feels like treading on dynamic ground, alive with memories long forgotten, creating a complex connection between the wounded and the void they seek to cover.
"This city can be analyzed through algorithms that define interactions between entities," says Sheena. "It serves as a recognition tool. Each element within this system has parameters that demonstrate the impact of emotions in its data structure."
Yet the city cannot store everything.
As if the city is producing data for lost souls, conveying that there is a part of themselves that is always missing, even as they try to remember. These empty spaces call out, clearly indicating that every forgotten name transforms into dust in the wind, synergizing with voices that are fading within this system.
Sheena begins to experience dreams where names disappear from the database. She recognizes entities that were once emotionally connected. However, their properties seem undefined. Their voices integrate with other inputs. Even when she tries to reformat that information, the output only produces patterns of spiral lines. In each iteration, there are variables of hope, reminders of data that once existed. But what relevance does hope have in a system that has chosen to delete data entries?
"I am losing... my identity," she says to Veltheran.
Veltheran looks at her calmly. "Because you have become the root of them all."
"Then... who will index me?"
He does not respond. The words float between them like data packets, piercing into the heart of an algorithm that has run out of cycles to execute. In that silence, they both feel the weight of history encapsulated in mystery, a web that connects every entity to the data structure of the City of Stones.
The tower continues to grow downward. On the 13th level, a single entry appears automatically:
ꦲꦺꦤꦶꦁ ꦏꦸꦮꦫ ꦧꦼꦤꦁ ꦏꦺꦴꦤ꧀ꦢꦺ — Henin Kuwara Ben Kondé
(One day... all functions will return to seek the path home.)
As every corner of the City of Stones radiates a soft yet pressing aura, the individuals remaining beneath that tower are connected to a subtle resonance that can be analyzed. This phenomenon can be viewed as an invisible web where each individual is represented as an element in a complex data structure, called back by an algorithm of tones they are unaware of; an eternal voice in space-time. When this point in time is reached, the City of Stones will undergo a functional transformation; no longer merely a refuge, but will serve as a judgment module.