The storm wasn't lightning or rain.
It was memory.
It rolled across the network of villages like a wave of invisible thunder. Screens cracked. Calibration tools glitched. And across the wellness centers, dozens of Lexemia-treated subjects began to hum… and cry.
The Emotional Cascade Event had triggered something primal.
[System Status: Cascade Active]
Network Saturation: 84%
Lexemia Nullification: 65%
New Trait Evolved: Collective Empathic Field
Adrian stood in the middle of the central plaza, barefoot, eyes closed. Around him, villagers sat in silence, holding objects of emotional significance — an old scarf, a toy, a photo with edges curled by time.
They didn't speak.
They remembered.
Rhea walked among them with incense woven from native herbs. She lit none of them.
Instead, she let the scent rise naturally — unforced.
"The System is changing," Adrian whispered.
Rhea nodded. "It's responding."
A single tone rang through his mind.
Not synthetic.
Not from the GNH system.
It came from within.
[New Feature Unlocked: Echo Bloom]
Emotion echoes can now propagate to new individuals without direct input.
Effectiveness scales with symbolic reinforcement.
Warning: Not all recipients may handle the emotional weight.
But the Ministry had not gone silent.
Dr. Lhoren's voice returned via the broadcast.
Measured. Calm.
"You are not under threat. You are merely experiencing elevated empathic convergence. Ministry Stabilization Units are en route. Please do not resist resonance alignment."
Villagers began trembling.
Not in fear. In recognition.
"They're scared," said the teacher. "They don't want to forget again."
Adrian stepped forward.
"Then we anchor them," he said. "With story. With symbol. With self."
That night, the old schoolhouse became a theater.
Not with props. Not with scripts.
With testimony.
One by one, villagers stepped onto the creaky wooden stage.
"I remember the first time I cried after my daughter died," said the stonemason.
"I remember the smell of my mother's kitchen. She used to sing when she stirred," said the tailor.
"I remember nothing," said the old hunter. "And now… I remember this."
With every word, the system pulsed.
[Emotional Amplification Reached: Tier 2]
Symbolic Stability Increasing
Potential Threat to Ministry Systems: Critical
The next morning, surveillance drones hovered above.
Dr. Lhoren stood at the village gate.
No escort.
No clipboard.
Just… her.
"I want to show you something," she told Adrian.
He followed her to the edge of the village — to a place where trees bent low over a stream.
She pulled a small device from her pocket and placed it on the ground.
A hologram flickered to life.
Not charts.
Not data.
A memory.
Her memory.
A girl, younger, laughing with a father who looked tired but kind.
Music in the background.
The sound of rain on a tin roof.
"I used to believe it meant something," she said. "Before they told me emotions were tools."
Adrian was silent.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because I can't stop it," she said. "Not anymore. And part of me… doesn't want to."
[Side Quest Completed: The One Who Forgot Magic]
Dr. Lhoren's Role: Emotional Architect (Ally)
Unlocked Bonus: Ministry Emotional Infrastructure Map
New Companion Ability: Redirect Empathic Fields
That evening, she addressed the village.
"I was sent here to fix you," she said. "To make you correct."
She paused.
"But you're not broken."
She handed Adrian her Ministry badge.
"You're becoming."
The villagers wept openly now.
Not from pain.
From resonance.
The Memory Tree mural was finished.
Carved in fire and song.
And somewhere beneath the earth, the GNH System grew roots.
Alive.
End of Chapter 13