The rain fell for eighteen hours without a single thunderclap.
Across three point two million square leagues of the continent of Aethel-Terra, the skies showered a steady, misting curtain of crystal water.
It was the gentlest rain living memory could recall.
Every drop was cool, pure, and infused with the crisp, clean scent of fresh peppermint.
Where the rain touched the earth, ancient scars began to dissolve.
For five hundred years, the Ash Wastes along the northern rim had been dead ground.
Black glass-fused melted rock waste and skin-burning fiery salts had choked out every blade of grass.
Now, as the mildly bitter-salt, mentholated rainwater soaked into the crust, a remarkable chemical shift occurred.
