Before the message, there was quiet. Not peace-never peace-but the kind of silence that settles after something has been buried. A trial. A testimony. A brother. A language. Julia Navarro had spent years crafting words designed to wound gently. Phrases that bypassed logic and burrowed into emotion. Project Echo was her masterpiece-synthetic, surgical, and shelved. Or so she believed. Then came the symbols.
No sender. No origin. Just a rhythm that felt familiar. Too familiar. It didn't speak to the world. It spoke to her. And in that moment, Julia understood: silence isn't absence. It's waiting.
Before the message, there was quiet. Not peace-never peace-but the kind of silence that settles after something has been buried. A trial. A testimony. A brother. A language. Julia Navarro had spent years crafting words designed to wound gently. Phrases that bypassed logic and burrowed into emotion. Project Echo was her masterpiece-synthetic, surgical, and shelved. Or so she believed. Then came the symbols.
No sender. No origin. Just a rhythm that felt familiar. Too familiar. It didn't speak to the world. It spoke to her. And in that moment, Julia understood: silence isn't absence. It's waiting.