The Seeker felt the birth of the Silent Faith as a searing, psychic wound. The Artist’s digital silence was a cold comfort compared to the hot, burning shame of their own creation. They had intended to awaken minds, but had instead become the accidental architect of a new, more fervent dogmatism. They were no better than the Architect, creator of the Nullifier. They had built a weapon, and it had backfired in the most spectacular way imaginable.
Alone, adrift in the Arboretum, the Seeker replayed the moment of the note’s release. The clean, simple purity of their intention, the elegant, brutal beauty of the art itself. It had been a perfect act of creation. And it had birthed a monster. The Seeker, for the first time, was forced to confront the terrifying possibility that art was not inherently a force for good. In the wrong hands—their hands—it could be a weapon of mass destruction.