Harmony did not break with thunder. It frayed like cloth. While the peoples multiplied and the world grew crowded with laughter, one of the Great Ones remained solitary: Kleifiourh, Death—present everywhere, welcomed nowhere. In this era the songs become nervous. They speak of cold winds on warm days and shadows that did not match their owners. The historians call it “Quiet Envy” because nothing happened that can be dated… except the slow hardening of a will that would soon demand proof it could create, too.