78 Cycles of the Verdant Bloom
The air hangs heavy, thick with the scent of resin and something… older. It’s not decay, precisely, but a suspended moment, like a frozen echo of a thousand suns. The Jakfruit, when properly prepared – a process involving the precise alignment of lunar phases, the chanting of forgotten glyphs, and a draught of fermented starlight – reveals itself not as a fruit, but as a window. A window into the currents of time itself.
This isn't a simple divination, you understand. It’s a resonance. The Jakfruit, particularly those grown in the Shadowlands of Xylos, possess a unique cellular structure – what the Elders called “Chronoskin.” Each layer of the fruit’s flesh acts as a miniature temporal node, recording and broadcasting echoes of events that transpired within a certain radius. The older the fruit, the more potent the echoes.
Our first attempts, naturally, were crude. We believed we could simply ‘listen’ to the fruit, focusing our minds, attempting to draw out fragmented images or sensations. It was like trying to capture the whispers of the wind with a stone. The fruit offered only static, a jarring cacophony of sensations that induced headaches and, in some cases, brief but terrifying glimpses of futures that never were.
The breakthrough came with Lyra. She wasn’t a diviner in the traditional sense. She was a cartographer, obsessed with the shifting geometries of the Xylosian landscape. She realized that the Chronoskin wasn't responding to conscious intent, but to deliberate, structured observation. She began meticulously mapping the surrounding area – not with ink and parchment, but with complex patterns of light projected onto the fruit itself. Using a device she dubbed the “Chroma-Lens,” she layered these projections, creating a three-dimensional record of the environment, effectively ‘feeding’ the Chronoskin with precisely calibrated information.
The effect was astonishing. Instead of chaotic fragments, we began to perceive coherent narratives. We witnessed the construction of the Obsidian Citadel, a lost city swallowed by the Shadowlands. We observed the clandestine meetings of the Sylvani, the sentient plant-kin who once ruled Xylos. We saw the birth and death of entire civilizations, each event meticulously preserved within the fruit’s temporal layers.
However, the Chronoskin isn’t just a passive recorder. It’s an active participant, subtly influencing the observer. Prolonged exposure leads to a blurring of the lines between past, present, and future. Symptoms include disorientation, phantom sensations, and an unsettling feeling of being simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. The Elders speak of "Chronal Bleed," a condition where the observer becomes irreversibly entangled within the temporal stream, their own timeline fracturing and reforming.
We’ve learned that the intensity of the echoes is directly correlated to the emotional imprint of the event. A moment of immense joy, profound sorrow, or catastrophic violence leaves a far deeper impression than a simple transaction or a quiet contemplation. The Jakfruit, it seems, is drawn to extremes. This has led us to a disturbing realization: the Chronoskin isn’t just recording history, it’s actively seeking it out, almost as if the fruit itself is driven by a desperate, unknowable hunger.
Recent investigations have focused on the phenomenon known as “The Resonance Cascade.” It began approximately 37 Cycles ago, with the discovery of a particularly dense Chronoskin fragment – a piece of the fruit from the moment of the Great Sundering, a cataclysmic event that shattered Xylos’s moon. Since then, the echoes have become increasingly volatile, manifesting as overwhelming sensory assaults and, terrifyingly, as glimpses of *versions* of the future, each subtly altering the present. We’ve identified at least five distinct “Echo Streams” emanating from this fragment, each representing a potential timeline – some idyllic, some horrifying, all utterly alien.
The Council debates daily. Some advocate for immediate destruction of the fragment, fearing a complete temporal collapse. Others, driven by the potential knowledge it holds, argue for continued observation, advocating for a "controlled Resonance," a way to harness the Chronoskin’s power. I, of course, remain skeptical. The fruit doesn’t offer wisdom. It offers only the illusion of it, wrapped in a deceptive layer of temporal distortion. But the echoes… the echoes are undeniably compelling. I find myself drawn to them, compelled to decipher their meaning, even as I fear what I might discover.