The arrival of the mysterious "Visitors" came as no surprise to Ckain.
His knowing did not stem merely from the gradual steadying of the sun—though its light rose with unnatural clarity—but from something deeper. He had already been told.
"THEY ARE COMING."
The words had lingered in him like iron in water.
As any responsible Kaldros would, he prepared. This would not be the assembly of a handful. It would be the gathering of a people, of a nation. The long-foretold unity now approached under a sky too bright to ignore.
In step with the sun's deliberate stride, the people marched until they reached Kirata—vast and breathing gold. Fields of grain unfurled endlessly, their tall crowns bowing beneath a patient wind. Under the steady blaze of the sun, the land shimmered into a living ocean of yellow, rich and unbroken.
