When the world chooses to grow in resilience,
everything slows down.
Slow, still, strong.
Not without fault,
but always able to recover.
Then comes a voice that hasn't been heard for years.
A voice that was once the center.
Once held direction.
Once gave shape.
And now—it wants to return.
Not with weapons.
Not with systems.
But with the one thing that's hardest to resist:
Nostalgia.
A small group has emerged from the fringes of the old world.
Not a Faction.
Not an heir.
They call themselves the Antidote to Time.
They come not to rule,
but to "remind."
They say:
"You're strong now.
You're resilient.
But you've forgotten what it's like to be
guided.
Protected.
Shaped."
"We don't want to take over.
We just want to offer back
the framework that once held everything together."
And for the first time,
the new world that lives in rhythm
is hesitantly silent.
In zone 2.3,
some of the older people began to consider:
"What's wrong with a little structure?"
