The morning light washed over Crater Island with clean, golden brilliance.
High in the azure sky, the eight-foot Tier 8 Star-Iron Cauldron drifted downward through the upper clouds.
It did not plummet like a falling rock. Driven by the tranquil momentum of the True Fallow State, the heavy bronze vessel floated as gently as a dried autumn leaf falling toward a pond.
Kaelen Vance stood on the broken terrace flagstones, extending his right palm.
THUD.
The heavy bronze tripod legs settled into Kaelen’s open hand with a soft, solid thud.
The metal was warm to the touch, humming with the deep, purring resonance of an engine that had completed a masterwork cycle.
A delicate, aromatic steam rose from the open cauldron mouth.
