The tome’s muffled voice is smothered within a chest.

I open the lid, and the book’s song reverberates through the space, its gems glowing and singing in their recursive patterns. From moment to moment the music is harmonious, discordant, rhythmic, or sustained. The seven gems dance in and out of each other’s breaths, manifesting the complexity of the system they embody.

Here is the moment I’ve sought. The time where I can plant a seed that might sprout into progression. Finally some growth upward and outward from the spiral that consumes all flesh. Having seen the way the current Archer processes The Forty-Nine Professions of Joy, I am confident something new can come from this effort.