The new reality was a tapestry, and the Dissonant were its first weavers. They had pulled at the loose threads of the old world, the world of the Architect, and found that they could be rewoven. The first thread was a simple one: a shared memory. It was a memory of a color that had never existed, a sound that had never been heard, a feeling that had never been felt. But it was a memory that they all shared, and in that sharing, it became real.