As Jvan grew, her hands stretched not just into the sky and flesh, but speared into the earth.

Like roots they grasped, and pulled into the fiery soil. The stone gave way like softened glass, warm and supple. Cthonic spirits swarmed around the disruption and were powerless. 

Jvan pawed at the mantle, sensing the way it moved. 

Was she not vast? Could she not map this darkness by its echoes? Was there not here a heated shadow, a quiet core that had long years spun and spun, winding up like a toy?

The hands of God laid claim to what was theirs. They shivered, and like light, their sound did pulse through depths unknown.

Unfelt and unheard, the void below shuddered like the void above. Jvan's body moved like a heart, singing a tuneless beat, one that ricocheted through earth and fire and iron and earth again.

With each beat the echoes grew stronger, collided and bent around bubbles of nickel, exploring Galbar. Jvan's weight collided again and again with the stone on which she sat, her mass a stick upon a drum, until the planet was moving to her rhythm.

And the music climaxed, as she knew it would, and kinetic energy focused, as she knew it would, like sunlight through a lens- On a named and numbered mountain, where pressure had been building since the beginning of time.

On a plateau of wind-carved rock, Bormahven began to shake.