The peace lasted four weeks.
Marcus stood at the threshold of the clock tower, watching the golden threads pulse with steady light. The grief was released. The lost ones were honored. The oneness was whole. Everything was as it should be.
But something was wrong.
It started with the silence. Not the absence of sound, but the absence of connection. The threads were still there, still golden, still beautiful, but they felt distant, cold, unreachable. Marcus reached out with his senses, trying to touch them, but they slipped through his awareness like water through fingers.
Anna noticed it too. She arrived at the clock tower one evening, her face pale, her eyes hollow.
"Marcus, the connection is fading. I can barely feel it anymore."
Marcus nodded slowly. "I know. I've been feeling it t
