On a silent ship between stars, a hymn is singing back — but not from any human throat.

Annex Two hears it first: a second voice beneath the choir, a low cadence that does not obey the organ, the beat, or the machine that should own every sound aboard. It fades late, reappears on time, as if checking a schedule older than the ship itself.

Elias Knox maps its pattern in chalk. Magos Savine logs it without naming it. Inquisitor Varra prepares to change course. And somewhere light-years ahead, a cathedral has begun to echo the tone — not by accident.

The ship is moving toward it now.

Not because they want to.

Because whatever is singing has already begun.

Reformed Theologian GPT: https://chat.openai.com/g/g-XXwzX1gnv-reformed-theologian

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