In the quiet, glowing space of the heavens, the Heavenly Scrolls drifted through the air like slow-moving rivers of light. These weren't made of paper; they were long, shimmering sheets that held the blueprints for everything in the world below—the wind, the trees, and the lives of every person.
Alias stood in the middle of them, his long silver hair glowing softly. He was the Architect, the one responsible for making sure the world actually worked the way he had designed it.
Right now, he was focused on a large scroll that showed the Southern Zone, and his brow was furrowed in worry.
The crystal rings of his halo—which usually spun in a perfect, calm rhythm—slowed down. The light on the scroll was turning a bright, angry orange.
"It's too hot," Alias muttered to himself. "I looked at the rainfall levels, and they aren't enough. If the sun stays this strong, the people in the south won't be able to grow anything. They'll run out of water before the month is over."
