Decades, perhaps centuries, flowed by within the transmigration system. Time held little meaning for Alex and Anya, their existence intertwined with the ever-evolving tapestry. They traversed countless realities, each a unique melody woven into the grand symphony.
One arrival found them bathed in an ethereal glow. This reality seemed to exist on a plane of pure thought, its music a symphony of logic and reason. The anomaly, however, was a jarring intrusion. A discordant note, a maddening repetition, pulsed like a migraine headache.
The scholar within Alex recognized the signature - the Weavers of Discord. This time, however, they weren't relying on brute force, but on a weaponized melody designed to sow confusion and disrupt logical thought.
Anya, ever the pragmatist, frowned. "They're trying to turn logic against itself. Clever, but nasty."
