Years had passed since Elara, with her gentle touch and keen understanding, bridged the divide between the city and the bioluminescent flora. The Symphonic Engine thrummed with a harmonious song, its vibrant luminescence painting the Zenith Tower in living light.
But nestled within the glow, shadows flickered. Whispers, once faint like dying embers, began to kindle into flames. Rumors of discontent murmured through the underweb, tales of a group calling themselves the "Shadow Weavers." They spoke of manipulation, of twisting the plants' whispers into discordant tunes, of exploiting the engine's vulnerabilities for their own nefarious ends.
Elara, her brow furrowed in concern, felt a familiar tug at her heart. The symphony of the city thrummed within her, and discordance, no matter how faint, grated against her soul. She knew she couldn't ignore these whispers, not when the city's very harmony hung in the balance.
