PREVIEW

... and suspended lattices of mana-weft constructs.

The first star of Elyrion pulsed gently overhead—a golden light that illuminated the spellwork below like a sun rising inside thought itself.

The core pulsed now with regular rhythm.

It was time.

Time to give the realm a body.

Not a soul. Not a sky.

But land—terrain that would define where dreams stepped, where mountains grew, and where rivers would eventually wind like memory.

Argolaith stood ...

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