The Eshari stepped forward, their shadow long in the twilight. "This is Vahran," they said quietly, "the echo of what once ruled the world before Hara was born. Watch closely. Learn. And do not forget… even courage must be chosen."
One of the young beings, the one who had first spoken "Together," swallowed hard. Their voice shook as they asked, "What… what does it want?"
Vahran did not speak. It did not need to. Its presence was a question, a test, a weight pressing down on everything around it. The ground hummed under its form. Trees bent, leaves rustling in a language older than words. The stars seemed to dim, watching silently.
The Eshari raised a hand. "It seeks recognition. It seeks understanding. But it will not yield to fear."
A long pause stretched. Then, slowly, the young beings realized something: the fissure beneath Vahran's feet pulsed in rhythm with the heartbeat they could feel deep inside themselves. A connection—tenuous, fragile—was forming.
