The Choir had changed.
What used to be clean, symmetrical waves of order now shifted constantly. Resonance zones flickered between perfect grids and jagged chaos, spitting out hybrid monsters that looked like they had been built by two opposing machines fighting over the same blueprint.
Symmetrical golems with four arms and mirrored faces marched in formation until one side of their bodies suddenly sprouted wild crystal spikes or leaking scar tissue. Then the pattern broke, and they charged with no warning.
Nodes across the Weave reported the same thing: harmony storms. Reality flipped back and forth every few minutes. One second the ground was stable crystal lattice.
The next it turned into writhing scar matter that grabbed ankles and tried to pull people in. The Balance faction used every flip to strike. Their fighters knew exactly when the shift was coming.
