Within the heart of the Chronarium, a place existing outside the conventional flow of time and space, dwells the Luminous Tuberculate. It is not an object in the manner we typically understand, but a resonant echo, a solidified memory of a forgotten epoch – the Age of the Shifting Sands. Legend whispers that it was born from the convergence of a dying star's iridescent dust and the collective anxieties of a civilization that mastered the art of manipulating temporal currents.
The Tuberculate’s origins are shrouded in paradox. Scientists, or rather, those who study phenomena like the Tuberculate, theorize that it emerged as a consequence of extreme temporal stress. The Shifting Sands civilization, known for their intricate temporal devices – devices that could, theoretically, fold space and time like origami – experienced a catastrophic event. A ‘Temporal Fracture’, they called it, a cascade of unstable timelines. The Tuberculate is believed to be a physical manifestation of this instability, a solidified fragment of that fractured reality. It doesn’t simply *exist*; it *responds*. It pulses in time with the fluctuations of the Chronarium’s energy, growing brighter when temporal anomalies occur and fading when the flow stabilizes.
Its form is perpetually in flux. It resembles a large, polished pebble, roughly the size of a human hand. However, its surface is never truly still. Minute, shifting patterns – reminiscent of swirling sand dunes – constantly dance across its surface. These patterns aren't random; they reflect the echoes of events from the Age of the Shifting Sands. One moment, you might see the silhouette of a towering sandship, the next, a ritualistic ceremony involving beings who appear to be composed entirely of light.
The Tuberculate possesses several unusual properties. Firstly, it generates a localized temporal distortion. Within a radius of approximately ten meters, time flows at a slightly different rate than the surrounding Chronarium. This isn't a dramatic shift – a few seconds per hour – but enough to cause disorientation and affect the rate of decay. Secondly, and more disconcertingly, it seems to respond to intent. Focusing on a specific event from the Age of the Shifting Sands – a moment of triumph, a moment of despair – will amplify that echo, causing the Tuberculate to glow with an intensified luminescence and the temporal distortions to increase.
Prolonged exposure to the Tuberculate is… destabilizing. Individuals have reported experiencing vivid hallucinations, fragments of memories that aren’t their own, and a profound sense of disconnection from their own timeline. The Chronarium’s safeguards – carefully calibrated temporal anchors – are designed to mitigate these effects, but they are not foolproof.