The sky over the City of First Light carried a different kind of light.
Not just from stars.
From seeds.
Luminous spores drifted like fireflies, tiny floating fragments of golden shimmer that trailed light through the air. They wove through towers and trees, spiraled around the floating walkways, and danced into every open palm raised in greeting.
The Dreaming Tree had bloomed again.
And with it, the city shifted.
This was not merely a season.
It was a beginning.
A new one.
A becoming.
The Quiet Before Creation
Isabelle walked the city alone that morning.
Not in silence.
In anticipation.
The streets hummed softly. The trees swayed as if in prayer. The city, always half-awake with dreaming, now held its breath.
It was waiting for something.
She didn't yet know what.
She stopped beneath the Dreaming Tree. Its silver-flame leaves glittered in the dawn, rustling like whispers between worlds.
She reached up.
A single petal fell into her hand.
