"Aye, aye, my apologies, esteemed Emet-Selch." Yet from Mykha's tone, their smile, and the flap of one hand, they hardly seem apologetic at all. In fact, they sound oddly fond at his chiding, inspecting the smokey iridescence of the crystal with a nostalgic expression that warms their gaze and smile. It's gone almost as soon as he continues, their ears flicking back as they nod.

"Concept crystals do not look as these do, 'twas more like..." Their mouth twists, both hands rising as if to form the thoughts as they study how tightly bound the sleepers are. "A chrysalis? An egg? Concept crystals contain the essence of a creation, preserving the idea for eons without age as long as one has the aether to manipulate them, aye? Yet clearly we have been summoned by these, born again to a new world and age...?"

They pause, their face going oddly blank as a new sense of creeping horror begins to crawl its way up from the depths.

"Unless we are simply clones in mind and form."