This wondrous sight was seen by all. From the smallest fishing villages along the Serathil's hungry banks to the noble estates perched on Vaeloria's marble cliffs, from the weary farmers scanning the heavens for rain over the cracked fields of Kaltharion, fields that once thrived when the Serathil still flowed through their plains, the sky's sudden blaze became the single breath shared by two nations.
People rushed out of doorways, abandoned hearths, paused mid-dinner, mid-conversation, mid-heartbeat, every face tilted upward, bathed in that impossible golden fire.
And soon, as though the heavens themselves had chosen the words for them, everyone began to whisper the same thing, the words that were said to have been whispered by the powerful Swan Divina residing in the stone tower of the capital city of Vaeloria:
The sky is crying fire.
