I never heard my own song. While other children laughed as their gems chimed in the sun, mine stayed dark, cold, perfect. They called me Still-Soul. Cursed. Empty. I learned to mend cracks in others’ gems, to feel the fractures they couldn’t bear to face. It hurt—every repair was a whisper of someone else’s pain echoing through my hands.

Now, the city burns.

Smoke chokes the sky as the Silica Enforcers march through the square. A man screams as the Shatter Engine descends upon him. His emerald gem flares green—then shatters. The sound is unbearable—not just noise, but a soul ripped apart. I drop to my knees, clutching my chest.

And then… my diamond pulls.

The scream doesn’t fade. It flows into me. Stored. Remembered.

I stand. My hands tremble. I raise them toward a burning building. I don’t know what I’m doing. I only know the echo of fire inside me.

A wave of force erupts—not creation, but reversal. The flames retreat, bricks reassemble, smoke collapses back into smokeless air.

Silence.

People stare. One child points: 'She undid it!'

But behind me, a puddle ripples upward. A bird flies backward into the sky.

I did that.

And if I can undo fire… what else can I erase?

The voice in my head is quiet, ancient: You are the Pause. Will you press play?