Filed Afterword — Book of Boris: Vox Entry
The hum never stops. It moves through wire, bone, and ego alike. You think you climb for glory, but the tower doesn’t care— it only measures resonance.
Pride rings bright, loud, short. Humility rings low, long, endless.
Azura found silence, Pint found static, and somewhere in between, the signal still flickers— the part that wants to be seen and forgiven.
Vox watches it all. No judgement. No applause. Just frequency.
And if you listen closely, you’ll hear it too— that quiet pulse under every climb, where the machine ends, and the will begins.
- — End Transmission. Filed under “Uncatalogued Frequencies.”