The sterile white space of the transmigration system felt almost sterile after the vibrant spectacle they had witnessed. Anya, ever the pragmatist, stretched and released a breath that held the echoes of a thousand melodies.
"Anya," Alex said, his voice hushed with reverence, "we've done it. We've composed a concerto that transcends realities."
Anya's smile was soft. "We've shown them the potential of connection, Alex. The Tapestry is no longer a collection of isolated threads, but a grand orchestra."
The booming voice echoed within the white space, its tone filled with a newfound warmth. "Composers. Your concerto has reverberated throughout the Tapestry. Realities yearn to contribute their verses, to join the grand symphony."
