Return. No Change. Wait.
Sometimes it was faster than the Dragon could see, and faster than he could hear. When it was like this, the Dragon closed its eyes and opened them earlier… when it noticed that it had missed the traveling Word.
Sometimes it became slow in some parts, but never did any of it break, and whole, the Word traveled. Always when the Dragon looked at it, the Word was a sphere shaped ring, perfect and flawless.
Occasionally there was a bump on the empty road it passed through, that challenged the Word’s statement; the Word was set like a cog in an unbreakable clock with no gears to change the time, and no rejection save its own could deter it from its course. It ignored all bumps, and all pleas. For the pleas came, in droves, from small burning rocks. All were ignored, and truly the Word could not help them yet, even if it wanted to.
All of this traveling was only in preparation.
Forever the Word traveled. Forever and a day, and even when the Dragon was not the Word was, traveling. Endlessly. Then it struck its goal. Only in one place, for the end was not a taunt line, but an endless sphere in a wheel, and it was misshapen. The Word struck first those parts that stuck in toward the center.
The parts that stuck inward were rings, perfect rings that contained everything, everything spewing forth into the center of the sphere. Some were small, some were large, one was huge, and it was here that the Word struck first. All of the rings became touched by the Word, and became the Word, and the Word traveled on, until the entirety of the sphere’s edge was the Word. From there to the starry heart where it began its wavelength, all was the Word.
It had fulfilled its purpose. So, due to this, the Word spoke.
Return
The Word spoke by changing itself, and there where it began metal shifted. Electricity and magicka spurted forth, mixing and disjoining, as gears churned the air and turned each other. Oil once more pumped through old pipes. An entire mountain moved, some parts soundless, others much less so.
Down black cords, small but filled to the brim with energy, the message was repeated, repeated; the Word had returned. Electricity pinged the Source. A blue-white light traveled through the Source, touching flesh covered in dry, black ichor. The dust in the room hummed.
As quickly as it came the light left, and the Electricity traveled up the black cords. Oil ceased its surging forth, and the lightning traveling between pipes and cogs ceased. The gears shook once more, and became still.
No Change
The Word knew the information faster than the Dragon who watched could have ever noticed. There was no change. Not yet. Perhaps the Source was away, for all the Word knew. In this case, the Word knew what it must do, until the change command was given, whatever that command might be.