The room fell completely silent, every villager now focused on the man who held their past, present, and future in his frail hands.
"Wel... welcome—cough, cough—everyone, to the village gathering," the old chief greeted.
The crowd bowed their heads quietly in respect. After a moment of catching his breath, the chief lifted his staff again and tapped it gently into the wooden floor.
"We are the descendants," he continued, his voice steadier now, "of those who once lived in the gods' lands… but defied them."
A heavy silence filled the room.
"Our ancestors… betrayed the divine order, and for that, the heavens cast them out. They were exiled—thrown down from the lands of light to this forsaken place. A land of stone, grass, and struggle. A land with no sky to rain, and no stars to keep watch."
