When Roza looked into Liu’s eyes, she felt as if a missing piece had finally fallen into place. The chaos in her mind caused by her grandmother’s departure suddenly quieted. She didn’t understand why.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “My name is Liu. I’m a member of the Network of Geniuses. I know you’ll pass something on to me when the right moment comes.” Liu spoke calmly and with certainty.

  “How do you know that? I don’t understand what I could possibly give you…” She spread her hands helplessly.

  “Come, let’s take a walk through the musical gardens,” he suggested.

  Roza was slightly flustered and enchanted by what she felt the moment he appeared. She no longer needed music to stabilize herself — for the first time in her life she felt truly grounded. Her mind slowed down and focused entirely on this one person. The boy was slender but strong; she sensed decisiveness in his movements. From the side, he looked almost painted — sharp facial features, black, slightly messy medium?length hair that lifted with every motion, an asymmetrical fringe falling over one eye.

  Roza and Liu walked in silence to the music hall she had chosen. Without any explanation, they both lay down on the heated reclining chairs and connected to the devices. They went through the session, each in their own way — Liu relaxing his overworked mind, slipping into a meditative state, while Roza did the opposite, building endless chains of possibilities from scales, intervals, tempo, and harmony.

  After the session, they moved in silence to the quiet room. In absolute stillness, they could hear each other’s breaths — even the beating of their hearts. From the outside, it looked as if they were simply staring at one another, but in truth they were already attempting telepathic contact. Without knowing each other, without knowing anything about one another, they reached such a deep physical connection that they managed to communicate without words.

  Liu had tried telepathy many times — with scientists, students, colleagues — but he had never achieved this state.

  The moment they sat down facing each other, he felt an extraordinary force, a pull toward Roza. He knew it wasn’t the after?effect of the music session — it was something deeper. He was about to speak when something in his mind shouted:

  “STOP! Don’t ruin this.”

  His pupils widened. Roza blinked when she felt him receive her message. It seemed extraordinary. She felt as if some algorithm had unlocked, as if a greater, stronger force had taken over.

  She had never found telepathic contact so effortless with anyone. A few times she had managed to connect with Lydia, but it was always shallow. Her grandmother didn’t want to train it with her — she believed it would push Roza even further away from joining any circle and make her even more of an outsider. She also believed that if the Creators had wanted them to have telepathy, it would come naturally.

  Only after a moment did Liu realize it had been her. He focused and forced himself to send her a message:

  “I saw you in a dream.”

  Roza felt his words inside her soul. She was moved by how easily they communicated.

  “My name is Roza. I feel your words deep inside my mind.”

  “You’re extraordinary,” Liu replied, feeling his hand tremble. Telepathy demanded enormous effort — almost like physical exertion. He hadn’t realized how exhausting it was to transmit information this way.

  Roza felt similarly, though she sensed her abilities were slightly stronger than his. Still, she decided to end the session — she saw him shaking from the strain.

  “We’re done. I’m leaving,” she sent, then stood up and walked out into the gardens.

  Liu sat a moment longer in complete silence, overwhelmed with happiness that he had finally succeeded in telepathic communication. He was an exceptionally gifted mathematician and physicist. Many in the circle considered him a genius, even a prophet, due to the extraordinary capacity of his mind — but some experiments had remained only calculations on disks, impossible for the body to achieve. Now, when his calculations had finally become reality, he felt deeply satisfied. He just didn’t understand why Roza had ended the experiment.

  He recalled his dream — seeing her exactly in this place — and understood it hadn’t been accidental. If the barrier blocking his telepathy had shattered just before hearing her voice, what would they achieve together once they began working?

  He forced his body to stand, resisting the urge to sink back into the chair and close his eyes. When he opened the door, a wave of light and sound hit him.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  He walked toward the small figure of the girl.

  “Roza, that was incredible. I’ve tried for years to communicate telepathically, and only with you did it finally work,” he said, excited. She smiled.

  “I’ve communicated that way before, but each time I had to open a kind of portal made of melody or words — and always with an amulet charged with energy.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I used to communicate with my grandmother… who is gone now. She left for the Cylinder on a space vessel.” Liu realized the wound was fresh, so he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder — then quickly withdrew, embarrassed by his boldness. But was physical touch really inappropriate after such a deep mental connection? They had just shared something stronger than intimacy.

  A jolt ran through Roza when he touched her. She felt a physical flow of energy between their bodies — she could almost see her neurons reacting to his presence. It startled her.

  “Sorry, I forgot what I wanted to say…”

  “You were explaining that you opened a telepathic portal using melodies or words with your grandmother.”

  “Yes… it was our little game. She would invent a melody, a song, or a poem, and by repeating it rhythmically I could reach her — even in dreams. But usually it was only a few words or an image of a place where we could meet. She didn’t want to communicate that way. She thought it harmed me and that I should focus on being accepted into one of the circles, since I’m already of age.”

  “But that is a form of learning… you have an extraordinary ability. I would love to work with you.”

  “Now I don’t understand.”

  “I’m Liu Oto Namazumi from the Circle of Geniuses,” he introduced himself formally.

  “Oh — you’re the one who discovered the new galaxy that might contain life similar to ours?”

  “Yes, that’s me. And from the latest data, I can say I see one planet that resembles ours.”

  “Incredible. I read all the articles. Lately, in the music halls, I do nothing but build new galaxies inspired by your discovery,” she laughed.

  “You build galaxies?” Liu stuttered.

  “Oh… yes. I see music. I create spaces from it — genetic codes, solar systems. No one understands it, but that’s just how I am.”

  “Roza… I think you’re the missing element I’ve been searching for,” he whispered, deeply moved and inspired. “I think I’ll petition for your admission to our circle.”

  He wanted to take her to the headquarters immediately, begin research on her abilities. Only the ethical code, social norms, and the Council’s approval held him back.

  “Liu, that’s very kind. I feel as if we’ve known each other forever. This is all so strange…”

  “I promise you — at our next meeting, I’ll have a proposal ready for your contract with the circle.”

  “I don’t think you need me there,” she laughed. “I don’t have any supernatural powers. Though some people say there’s a kind of energy around me… an aura.” She whispered the last word. She shouldn’t have said it. He would think she was a freak, like everyone else. He’d nod politely and walk away.

  But Liu smiled, his teeth bright, his pupils widening even more.

  “You’re the missing element,” he repeated — then took her hand and pulled her toward the station connecting different parts of Sector K.

  “Liu, where are we going?” she asked.

  “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes.” He let go of her hand abruptly. “I want to take you to the lab, show you my work, my office. But I know we don’t know each other yet. This telepathic connection… it created some kind of cosmic trust in me.”

  “Yes, I felt it too. But you should rest. I…” She hesitated, and Liu sensed he needed to slow down.

  “Of course. We’ll meet… soon?” he offered.

  “All right.”

  “Can I message you?”

  “Sure.”

  They reached the station and realized they were heading in opposite directions. As they departed, they kept looking at each other, as if spellbound.

  ***

  Tuormo finally felt a faint sense of satisfaction. This time, when he ran the simulation of Earth, its end was nowhere in sight for the next millennia. He already knew what had to be done, even though neither he nor the other Creators had ever planned for this.

  They never wanted to interfere with any of the galaxies they had created — their role was to observe, not to guide. Yet they had not shaped worlds only to watch them collapse into nothingness. Every force, every component, even every individual and their actions mattered.

  It had been difficult to tame the chaos, which was why they invented the solar system, the planets, and later time itself, along with the forces governing their motion. It was meant to impose order on what had originally been pure energy.

  But the true challenges began only when thinking beings emerged — and above all, their free will.

  On Earth, they had to appear as gods and give humans faith, which greatly improved the fate of that world. On Sirion, however, they had to merge the energies of good and evil with science, and block the possibility of immortality for organic matter.

  Everywhere, fate was meant to move in cycles, so that infinity could be achieved — a beautiful, extraordinary, endless perfection.

  But this time, the stakes were higher than ever before. The simulations Tuormo had analyzed over the last cycles revealed something they had not seen in eons — a slow but inevitable fracturing of the foundations of reality. It was no longer about the fate of a single planet, a single species, or even a single galaxy. Fluctuations in the primordial energy were beginning to seep through the structures of spacetime like cracks in glass, deepening with every moment.

  If they did nothing, the entire cosmos — their creation, their purpose, their legacy — could collapse within a few thousand years. For mortal beings, that was an eternity. For the Creators — merely a breath.

  Tuormo saw it clearly: the free will of thinking beings, though beautiful and necessary, had begun generating unpredictable energetic impulses. Every decision, every conflict, every war, every scientific breakthrough affected the balance of forces that were meant to remain in delicate harmony from the very beginning. Earth and Sirion were the epicenters of these disturbances — two worlds that could either restore balance or bring about total dissolution.

  That was why Tuormo knew he had to make a decision they had sworn never to make. He had to intervene. Not to rule, but to preserve existence itself. Because if the wheel of fate stopped turning, infinity would cease to exist. And with it — everything.