The sky was gold.
Not the kind of gold found in coins or metal, but the living gold of morning light—soft and warm, alive with promise.
It spilled across the valleys of H'Trae, bathing the mountains and forests in hues of peace. Birds, once silenced by the oppression of the System, now sang freely into the air. Rivers flowed with ease. Wind moved through the trees like gentle laughter.
And in the center of it all, in the heart of the Northern Continent, the people were cheering.
Their voices lifted like a hymn, a sound that hadn't been heard in lifetimes—a song of survival, of joy, of rebirth.
At the center of the crowd stood a figure. Cloaked in light, standing tall but visibly dazed, his eyes wide as if still unsure of where he was.
It was Rey.
He looked around, breath short and chest rising and falling with disbelief. Everything felt real. The grass beneath his feet. The heat of the sunlight on his face. The feeling of wind brushing his hair.
He was here.
Alive.
