[i]Knō[/i]

An aurora of annihilation colored the dome of day that vaulted the populous city and its nearby boroughs, and reduced the on-coming debris to fine particles. Low-flying envro-gliders swept the bulk of the dust away, with what substance remained uncaptured destined to blow far and wide on the tradewinds, thus nurturing the jungles and plains of far away lands.  It was a kaleidoscopic, praetomic event, free from fallout but pregnant with ano and aura. Nor did Knō let ignorance take root in opportunity, but broadcasted a frequency that warned all along the Inland Sea of the threat.

[i]Hōm[/i]

In Hōm, there was a strangeness in the tide. As if the ocean itself retreated into the bedrock to take refuge. The fountain-well, meanwhile, overflowed, the Cleansing Steps slick with the deluge. To the Elders of the village, this was a rare event, an auspice and opportunity to instruct the youth in how, long, long ago, great walls of water rushed out of the depths and threatened the coasts until a creature, one whose image adorns the fountain, put into place a way by which Hōm might remain safe, and that the water may be used for good rather than destruction. At the same time, the helemb warned the town’s Elder and Scholar of the impending skyfall, and the people retreated into the deep caves of the fjord. After all, buildings could be rebuilt. 

[i]Port Solt[/i]

Talt watched the etched, artificial constellation light up the sky, and paused. It foretold something, and fell fates did not come alone. He turned to the man at his side — it was unnecessary to point out the obvious, the unavoidable. Instead, he asked, “What is that?”

It was an earthfall of islands, no longer kept rigid and aloft in the sky. A devastation of displacement that rained down on the Inland Sea and the cities that surrounded it, a second hit in so many days to Port Solt, although for once it was not the epicenter of destruction. Were that the case, many more would have died.

[i]Dalawakz[/i]

An empty canyon, distant enough from the mayhem that it did not feel the turmoil, nor hear the screams, nor consider the magnitude of the event triggered by the massive creature as it roved across the sea and came to rest atop a prison, a sigil. Yet a person beneath the bedrock acknowledged it, her eyes widened modestly beneath her mask of clinking chains. An answer would need to be found to this riddle, one in history. For such events were always cyclical, and this, to her, was known. But more important was the message to be sent to the Cult of Pé that they might utilize the cataclysmic event as an omen that would further their religion, their control. 

[i]Celwezc[/i]

In the distance, it appeared as a descent of many comets. They fell far and long against the horizon, and vanished into an obscurity beyond which stretched the Inland Sea. The farmers and their priestess pondered it, for if an omen, what did it bode? And so recent on the heels of the flash of light, the sonic rupture that came from the north and east.