The land beneath Kiaria was no longer still.
It did not crack.
It did not collapse.
It shifted–as though the ground itself had begun to breathe.
A deep, layered vibration rolled outward through the crystal field, slow at first, then accelerating. The pitch-black hexagonal spikes trembled faintly, their mirrored surfaces rippling as something vast moved beneath them.
This place was no ruin.
It was an anthill.
From every direction, figures emerged.
Not bursting forth in rage.
Not charging.
Not hunting.
They came walking.
Humanoid Yakshas stepped into the open–four-armed, tall, broad-shouldered. Their features were sharp and symmetrical, bodies honed like living weapons, yet marked by an unsettling calm. Some were male, others female, and among them were forms that could only be described as beautiful.
Too beautiful.
