Integration Point Symphony 7


You feel something grab you by the wrist. Whatever it was, it felt cold, metallic, mechanical…

Before you notice it, that grasp pulls you back violently away from the blue room in a direction you still can't quite comprehend. You feel your consciousness fade away, and your senses blur for just a moment as your back hits the floor.

When you wake up again, you're suspended in the air. You look to your sides, trying to figure out what is keeping you airborne, grabbing you by the shoulders. You see a pair of identical winged humanoid figures, made of clockwork and filigree. They remind you of angels… maybe those things you thought you saw were more than just a thought.

"Where am I?" You are barely able to mutter the words. The angels lower you closer to the ground, and you observe the barely comprehensible maze of clockwork, a million pieces of metal all around you moving in precise, mechanical rhythm like a living, breathing being. Swarms of angels move through the endless machinery, cleaning, repositioning, building, repairing and fixing things.

You take a deep breath, and try to move around a bit. The angels have a firm iron grip on your shoulders, but you don't plan to break free. You'd fall to your death if you did, anyways. You stretch your legs and arms, move your neck, your fingers, your knees, just to feel yourself move. You're still here. You're still alive. Whatever thing you saw behind that door didn't happen, did it? You stare at your hands for a few seconds.

There's someone waiting for you on the ground. Elaborate white robes hide their body and face, and you notice red accents and a second set of gray robes underneath as you get closer. The figure seems to not react at all as the angels place you hovering about the floor in front of them.

The figure takes a step towards you before speaking out in a dry, raspy voice.

Who are you, intruder?

Your grip on reality seems to be returning, bit by bit.

"I am… Tom Von Haderach."

Ah… did she send you here?

"What are you talking about?"

You're the scion of Lady Blanche, aren't you?

"Blanche?" You stutter, confused. "I- I thought she was gone, I was… somewhere else just a moment ago, and- and I "

The figure cuts you off.

It's not a matter of where, child. It's a matter of when.


Confusing, isn't it? I usually wouldn't waste my time with explanations… but I'll open an exception for you. Pay attention. I will not repeat myself.

You remain silent, trying your hardest to focus on the strange, mechanical voice.

What you just witnessed, young one, was something not meant to be seen. You were out of time, in a literal sense. The realm of Limbo is largely unexplored, a space outside time, where the dead timelines and paradoxes go to die. Tell me, boy, what did you see?

I was… I killed people- I was singing, I was rescuing someone, I-

You struggle to breathe.

I had a guitar, but then I also had a mask, and I was wearing white robes, but also a Black Knight's armor, and- and so many other things, all at once-

You experienced an integration point.

A… what now?

Your vision starts to blur.

A point of convergence between the timelines, a nexus in time where every single possibility is true. You had a glimpse into every single possible version of yourself. How much of it do you remember? Two, three versions?

Will… will I become any of them?

The future is a blank page, waiting for you to write it.

You struggle to keep your head up…

The robed figure smiled and muttered something about a clockwork symphony, or at least you think it did, as the angels put you gently down on the ground. The last thing you felt was the touch of paper at your fingertips, and a white blur filling your vision.

Then, you woke up in your bed. Blanche seemed very concerned about you, having spent three whole days in your room, waiting for you to wake up, afraid of what may have happened. She even skipped on her usual tea parties. You waste no time giving her a big, tight hug. She asks you about what happened, but the answer can wait. You're just glad to be home.

Da Capo.

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