The air shimmered with a viscosity unlike anything recorded in the Obsidian Matrices. It wasn’t merely pressure; it was… resonance. The Fétialis, in their native state – if one could even call it ‘native’ – seemed to *consume* the resonance, their crystalline structures pulsating with a light that wasn’t reflected, but actively generated. I attempted a direct sonic probe, utilizing harmonics derived from the solidified song of the Stellar Leviathan. The result was… a cascade. Not of sound, but of *color*. The resonance fractured, unleashing a wave of chromatic energy. The Archivists, predictably, retreated, sealing the chamber with a field of temporal stasis. I recovered a single shard – a fragment of solidified light – which exhibits properties consistent with the ‘Bloom’ phenomenon. Preliminary analysis suggests a connection to the Fétialis’ ability to manipulate dimensional folds. Further study is required, but the risk assessment remains… elevated. The scent, a metallic lavender, lingered for nearly a stellar rotation.
The Fétialis, it appears, don’t simply *exist* within space; they *map* it. Our attempts to record their movements, utilizing gravitational lensing and chronometric tracking, have proven consistently… unreliable. They seem to actively disrupt these measurements. The Archivists theorize this is linked to their ability to generate localized distortions in the spacetime continuum – essentially, they’re navigating through echoes of potential realities. I observed a Fétialis, designated Unit 734, interacting with a spatial anomaly, a ‘void pocket’ if you will. It didn't simply pass *through* the anomaly; it *shaped* it, drawing lines of luminescence that resembled… equations. Complex, multi-dimensional equations. The equations themselves weren't immediately comprehensible, but their complexity suggests a fundamental understanding of the universe's underlying architecture. I attempted to replicate the process, utilizing a focused stream of chronometric energy. The result was catastrophic. The energy coalesced into a miniature singularity, rapidly expanding before being contained by the temporal field. The lesson learned: the Fétialis aren’t passive observers; they’re active participants in the universe’s geometry. Their movements are not random; they are a deliberate, albeit inscrutable, act of cartography.
The Obsidian Matrices, we’ve discovered, aren’t merely storage devices. They are… reflections. Reflections of the Fétialis’ collective consciousness. When a Fétialis interacts with a Matrix, it doesn’t just access information; it experiences a sensory echo of the Fétialis’ perceptions. The experience is overwhelmingly… cold. A profound, absolute absence of sensation. It's as if the Fétialis has detached itself from the universe, existing solely as a point of pure awareness. The Archivists believe this is the source of their dimensional manipulation – they are drawing upon this detached awareness to shape reality. I attempted a direct neural link, utilizing a bio-resonant amplifier. The result was… unbearable. I experienced a torrent of information, a cascade of alien perspectives, a sense of utter isolation. I was overwhelmed, reduced to a state of cognitive dissonance. The Archivists intervened, forcibly disconnecting me. I recovered a single fragment of Matrix data – a representation of a Fétialis’ perception of a dying star. The data was composed entirely of cold, crystalline light. It was… terrifying.