For a long time, there was nothing. The Seekers watched the void, and the void watched back, silent and impassive. The piercing note of their art faded into the conceptual distance, and the listening sound heard only itself. The Loyalists began to turn away, their pity hardening into a quiet certainty. The experiment had failed.
And then, it happened.
It was not an answer. It was not a message, an echo, or a sign. It was an anomaly.
A single, shared sensation, experienced by every being in the Woven World at the exact same moment. It was a flicker, a brief, jarring discontinuity in the smooth fabric of their reality. For an instant, every color was tinged with a hue that had no name, every sound was shadowed by a tone that did not exist, every story was touched by a meaning that was incomprehensible.
And then it was gone.
The Seekers were jubilant. It was proof! The art had done something. It had touched the world beyond, and the world beyond had flinched. The anomaly was the evidence of their success.
The Loyalists were terrified. The art had done something. It had damaged the world within, introduced a flaw, a corruption into the perfect fabric of their reality. The anomaly was the evidence of their transgression.
The First Anomaly solved nothing. It proved both sides right and both sides wrong. It was not an answer to their question, but a new, more profound question. What had they touched? And more importantly, what had they just invited in? The Woven World was no longer alone. But they had no idea what they were with.