A Sami tribe makes offerings before their clan tree.
In the beginning, Sami made a promise with Her people, and the first group of warriors followed the guidance of the cracked tree into the distant and unknown north. At the time, the Samifjod did not know how long that journey would be, and so when the warriors did not return, the shamans held ceremonies, attempting to converse with the departed warriors, asking whether they would be able to return and honor their promises to Sami.
Now, Treescar–– the tribe perennially stationed in the north, knows that the warriors who have not returned will never again answer, because their souls have been tainted by the void. Nevertheless, as part of a millennia-old tradition, the shamans continue to ask in hushed whispers: 'Can we still honor our promises to Sami?'
The leader of the tribe understands that the shamans can foresee nothing but eternal battle and fated destruction. For him, there are too many questions that prophecy and divination cannot answer.
So he proclaims thusly: 'Heroes of the past, I obey your wisdom.'
'What divination cannot foresee, we shall witness with our own eyes just as you once did, and go forth with the belief that our ancestors will also see the answer.'
A monarch looks out into the distance from his golden castle. The sun sets at the exact moment the last grain of sand falls from the hourglass, just as his calendar dictates.
The conqueror from afar gradually approaches the royal city. The monarch's ministers continue to advise him against the epochal clash he plans to wage against the Khagan. He has brought unparalleled glory to Sargon, and its people will not accept any possibility of failure, or the tarnishing of the empire's glory.
But the monarch, whose achievements spanned both past and future, simply lets out a hearty laugh.
'I have already uncovered the truth of time itself. What could you, or the generations to come, possibly have to fear?'
'Follow my example, emulate my great works, and move forward as ordained in my calendar. The future is nothing more than this.'
A figure stands before a gargantuan structure gradually eroding in the frigid wind. It is calculating the possibilities of this planet, the possibility of survival for the many lives here, and the possibility of returning here once more after the icefields gradually melt.
Until it starts thinking—pondering—what the point of it all even is.
From what data it already possesses, there is no satisfactory answer to any of these things, so the lifeform known as 'Kal'tsit' steps forward, walking towards the vast expanses of time, towards a land without end.
......
Using a base established near the megastructure on the icefield as a springboard, a growing team of researchers is trying to explore the Foehn Hotlands to elucidate the new Collapsal phenomenon. Particularly, manifestations of temporal anomalies. Simultaneously, because the expeditioners were able to escape the hotland's influence thanks to the megastructure, people have also turned back to consider what principles the structure they restored operates on, and what potential it holds.
Unprecedented phenomena stimulate ingenious minds. People are constantly proposing and testing new hypotheses that subvert existing thought and shake the very foundations of science.
The team's collaborators include a Sarkaz Cyclops codenamed 'Valarqvin,' who facilitates the exchange of information between the research team and Rhodes Island.
She always remains silent, yet everyone believes that her gaze is fixed on the future, on fate itself.
And the fate of mankind holds infinite possibilities.