The planetary rotation of Aethelgard aligned to mark ten years since the termination of the cosmic war.
For an entire decade, the sky had refused to bleed jagged red formatting code. The northern continental crust had remained intact. The perimeter of the Oakhaven valley had never once been breached.
The Golden Age was no longer a fragile experiment. It was an undeniable reality.
To honor the Tenth Cycle, the mortal village surrounding the manor erupted into a joyous festival. The streets were illuminated with colored lanterns. The air was thick with the rich scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries. Mortal musicians played chaotic, unoptimized melodies that filled the valley with life.
Valeria avoided the massive crowds for the early evening. The Commander of the Golden Age required a quiet perimeter walk to process the weight of the anniversary.
