Erosoi looked across the sea as the sun broke the horizon. Seabirds screamed their tumultuous scream and a dark something far beyond the swells protruded just above the water then vanished. He rubbed his still heavy, sleep deprived morning eyes and sought whatever it was. He waited through a dozen breaths and chalking it up to a trick of the light, returned to his book.
He squinted at the horizon where the sun, stretching its brilliant orange and yellow morning arms, flung away its pink and purple covers.
That’s it! A strange heat flashed Erosoi’s skin. His heart palpitated. The Golden Age. That’s what uniting the tribes would bring. Not to return to the Golden Age of the past, but bring a newGolden Age to Braxon. Is that the purpose of all this? Is thatmypurpose? To reprisinate Braxon?
There once more he saw it, closer now…
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