Kyrian watched Lio Han in silence.
The elder slowly rotated the teacup between his fingers, a distracted, almost meditative motion, as if tracing invisible circles across the porcelain's surface, before leaning back in the dark wooden chair.
The leather creaked softly beneath his weight, a sound that echoed through the silence of the private room. His gaze seemed distant, like someone recalling something he had witnessed several times throughout his life, as if each memory were a pearl on a necklace of years.
"The Celestial Descent Festival..." he began slowly, his voice carrying a solemnity that Kyrian had never heard before.
"It is one of the most important events in the entire Sky Caravan."
Kyrian remained attentive, his violet eyes fixed on the elder.
"It happens once every... well, to be honest, there is no exact interval. Sometimes fifty years. Sometimes a hundred. Sometimes several centuries." He paused, letting the weight of the information settle.
