In a world fabricated by the Creators, there was a certain order to how things worked. If one threw a rock into a certain direction then it would go that way, rain fell down and waters rose up with heat, there was reason and rhyme—or that was what it would seem to the lens of those who wished for it to be seen that way. Whatever man may wish to call it, be it harmony or discord: everything was under their whims.
And for that very reason, there was no time to spare.
It was apparent in the air and it could be felt by everyone.
Akin to a single drop of water that fell into the ocean, it would continue to make ripples across its surface.
