"A message... left by the current self for a future self in the next cycle?" Trinnon repeated softly. A rare ripple of emotion crossed her usually calm and placid face, and beneath her eyepatch, curiosity gleamed just as brightly.
Back then, Cyrene's innocence had yet to be worn away by countless recurrence. She could still be captivated by such wonderful and romantic notions of the world, and was willing to put in the effort to make them real.
Seeing the instant spark of light in the three little ones' eyes, she felt her impulsive proposal was infinitely worthwhile.
"Mm-hmm," Cyrene agreed with a smile, her own eyes sparkling. "It sounds like an... incredibly romantic thing to do, doesn't it?"
And so, at a moment unnoticed by anyone, Cyrene secretly brought Tribbie, Trianne, and Trinnon to the place closest to Amphoreus's firmament—the Eye of Twilight.
Here, the sky seemed within arm's reach. The light membrane sustaining the world flowed slowly overhead, emitting a soft, hazy glow.
"Little Cyrie, is this the 'big rock' we're going to carve our words on?" Trianne asked, tilting her little face up towards the boundless expanse of the sky, her tone innocent yet earnest.
"Saying 'carve words'... isn't quite right either," Cyrene said, also looking up at the sky. "It's more like... carefully hiding a message on the 'other side' of the sky? A very, very safe place."
She was trying hard to find metaphors the Tribbies could understand. She couldn't explain to them the complex principle of how mnemic data carried and solidified a piece of information, and then, because it wasn't originally part of Amphoreus's native data system, it could be fortunate enough to be regarded as 'redundant' and preserved against the force that formatted everything during the 'Re-creation' process.
"Then Trianne needs to think carefully about how many people to leave messages for!" Trianne immediately started counting excitedly on her fingers. "One for Trianne, one for Tribbie, one for Trinnon..."
"Trianne," Trinnon reminded her softly, her tone carrying an undeniable seriousness, "Don't forget, there's also Trissha, Triyew, Tricome..." She listed the names of their other sisters. In her heart, all the "Tris" were one entity, inseparable.
"Of course Trianne knows that!" Trianne put her hands on her hips, her little cheeks puffing up. "Trianne was just counting on her fingers to see how many messages we need to leave!"
"Um... sorry, Teacher Trianne." Just then, Cyrene interrupted their enthusiastic planning with an apologetic tone. She explained helplessly:
"We can't... leave too much information outside Amphoreus all at once. It's like throwing stones into a calm lake. If the stones are small, they won't cause obvious ripples. But if you suddenly throw a big one..."
"If the information is too much, too complex, it might be identified as redundant junk by the 'Scepter System' that maintains this world's operation... and then... deleted."
"Ah? Really..." Trianne's voice was instantly filled with disappointment. She looked at her fingers, which she hadn't finished counting, then at Tribbie and Trinnon beside her, and at the smiling faces of the other sisters in her mind. Her little face was a picture of conflict, unable to choose.
"It's okay, Little Cyrie," Tribbie, being the most mature, immediately showed her thoughtfulness and big-picture perspective.
She gently patted the disappointed Trianne to comfort her, then turned to Cyrene, who looked apologetic. Using her gentle yet firm voice, she said, "Just leave one. One message for all the 'Chrysos Heirs' together is enough."
Her gaze swept over Trianne and Trinnon, finally meeting Cyrene's eyes. "After all, no matter how many cycles pass, we... will always be the Chrysos Heirs."
...
Only after Cyrene had carefully transformed the message, which gathered the feelings of all the "Chrysos Heirs," into the most ordinary piece of information and gently "etched" it onto the back of Amphoreus's firmament, did she breathe a sigh of relief.
Trianne, looking up at the seemingly unchanged sky, blinked her big eyes and asked a very practical question:
"Little Cyrie, if... if the us in the next cycle come here, just like us did, how will they see the secret message we left for ourselves?"
Cyrene heard this and thought about it seriously for a while. Indeed, if this information was left completely unprotected, and someone unrelated accidentally read it, that wouldn't be good.
A spark of inspiration flashed in her azure eyes. She had an idea. "Well... then let's add a little 'lock' to it."
Tapping her chin lightly with her fingertip, Cyrene explained, "Only someone holding a specific 'key' will be able to read this message. Hmm... how about setting this 'key' as the Coreflame of Passage?"
"Only those who bear the Coreflame of Passage in the future will be able to hear your message across the recurrence here. This setting is both safe and carries a kind of destined romance."
"That works," Tribbie nodded, satisfied with the arrangement. This way, the information wouldn't be easily leaked, and it could ensure it would ultimately be passed on to "one of their own."
Then, as if suddenly thinking of something else, her eyes, beneath her red short hair, sparkled brightly, holding a kind of beautiful expectation that spread outwards. She asked Cyrene again:
"Little Cyrie, since the power holding the authority of Passage can leave traces behind this firmament... what about... others? Can the other Golden Descendants also leave some words here for their future selves?"
Cyrene was slightly taken aback by the question. She had only thought about fulfilling the Tribbies' wish before, not deeply considered the universality of this ability.
She calmed her mind again and carefully sensed the capacity limit of the space behind the firmament.
"I... I think so," she answered thoughtfully, a hint of uncertainty in her tone. "But... this space seems to have its own 'capacity.' I sense that within one cycle, the total number of messages that can be etched and preserved seems... cannot exceed twelve."
She tried hard to find a metaphor the children could understand. "It's like... a jewel box that can only hold the twelve most precious gems. If you try to force too many in at once, exceeding its limit, it might... boom—all the gems would break."
"Twelve?" Tribbie's eyes lit up instantly. "That means, besides us, there are eleven 'slots'? Doesn't that mean everyone has a chance to leave a message for their future selves?"
She clapped her hands happily, genuinely delighted by this discovery.
Cyrene looked at Tribbie's pure, hopeful smile and was infected by this innocence.
Her originally cautious thoughts relaxed as well. She nodded, and an even grander, more romantic concept took shape in her mind.
"Hmm, it seems... it really might be possible." The gentle curve of her smile deepened, and her eyes sparkled with a light of eager experimentation.
"And if that's the case... since I can do this once for you, I might be able to make this... into a tradition. So that in every one of your cycles, when the Golden Descendants come here, they can not only see the messages left by the 'themselves' of the previous cycle, but also leave behind what they want to say to their future 'selves'..."
Back then, the pink-haired girl who made this promise had clear eyes and a bright, sunny smile. Her heart was filled with the impulse and joy of weaving a romantic miracle for her friends that would span the long river of time.
She had no way of foreseeing that this small act, born from a whim and tinged with a bit of playfulness and warmth, would accompany her through cycle after cycle.
And so... she persisted for over thirty million times.