A tremulous hush cloaked the distant galaxy of Nigh, as all who once believed in the promise of the elders now feared that any nano would end in tragedy. It seemed a certainty that defied faith.

In the Wild Place, flocks of Phylores stopped and waited breathlessly for a sign. One majestic pair, who had been together since Eve was a younger, felt stiff pangs of sorrow. There was suddenly no joy in the mating.  Only a whimper of regret.

At the opposite end of the Turn, Rubato was tumbling in the throes of abject panic. His agony was unrelated to the others.  He was unaware of swoons or anything else that did not directly attract his myopic attention.

He had been undone by the choice. Once repressed, the rift in the universe revealed it once again. He was not the chosen one. Harsh memories flooded through his nexus. Adrift and without purpose, he knew there was no Future. And no Joy.

Despair pulled him deeper into the raging undertow of the next twisted Turn that crashed around him. The realization of his true destiny could no longer be masked by his hubris.

And yet another felt the deep shudder of the Turn as well. The Messenger stirred. Eve was in danger.

It now seemed likely that the journey would end before it had started.  And that the seven would remain secrets forever.