Prelude to the Chronicles of Rosalia Janus Hawthorne

From the Chronicles of Rosalia Janus Hawthorne

Abfyle delete. Install Alwyneugenics 44/2×77/3-9-2×4

Pythagorean Theorem 3; Quantum Field 11

All true journey is return

It was a voice both human and beyond human, needing neither time nor mass to cede it authority. Outside the boundaries of the 11/2 polar axii it swept through the origins of the universe until it found the last child sleeping: Rosalia Janus Hawthorne (8.0.8.06/4.5.2-8 to the power of 2). A prophecy that had destroyed itself and the child wound in threads of fate within it. And the voice was rich and wise and said little; calling her gently from the rivers of eternity where language slid through the crevices of memory; and all the child could do was turn; restless and unassailable in her fortress of pain. And as that great voice, almost without effort, waited, time stalled at the centre of galaxies and planets gathered to the vortex of its resonance. As the child, once foretold in the hissing leaves of song, remained entrapped in her broken spells and the implacable stone walls of her past. Time stopped, it was no longer relevant to Rose who played beyond the shores of consciousness where the terror of the past and present lived, and she pitted her will in endless games against the ice lynx in a unmapped cartography. A secret menagerie in her mind.

Only music could web through that splintered soul and only music would, perhaps, if Rosalia chose, have been given license to bind her, though loosely and with love to another space in time, another world, another set of choices.

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