Dawn over the continent of Aethel-Terra broke with a light never seen before in human history.
The golden rim of the sun crested the eastern sea. Then, its rays struck the high silver ring that encircled the planet.
The trillions of tiny crystal-clear fragments caught the morning light, refracting it into an arch of pure, shimmering pearl.
The sky was not the hazy amber of ancient dry seasons, nor the soot-choked purple of disaster years.
It was a crystal-clear, electric cobalt blue, rinsed clean by eighteen hours of peppermint rain.
A brisk, invigorating breeze swept down from the snowcaps. It carried the crisp scent of alpine mint into every open window.
Across forty provinces, thirty million people woke without fear.
In the farming valleys, farmers led draft teams into fields that smelled of fresh loam and wild clover.
