The Spiral had not yet begun.
But it was preparing to.
Across the continent, reality cracked—not violently, but with the silence of disagreement. Entire cities awoke to find their laws of cause and effect... rewritten.
In Velmari, gravity began to respond to belief. Children floated when they laughed; adults sank when burdened by guilt.
In Aurelion, time no longer moved forward, but spiraled inward—people met their future selves at dawn and their past selves at dusk.
And in Harrowdeep, truth became negotiable. A man who believed he had wings could fly. A woman who denied her own death kept breathing.
These cities had no shared narrative.
And so, they declared war.
Not for territory.
Not for gold.
But for authorship.
