And in that silent, heavy-light embrace, the Cygiso taught her the only word that mattered:
The harvesters fell. The ships cracked. The soldiers scrambled. cygiso
And "enough."
Aris watched from a ridge as the harvesters descended. The great carousel formed—thousands of Cygiso overlapping, rotating slowly. They began their weight-language, but faster than she'd ever seen. A staccato of thuds and lifts, a percussion of presence. And in that silent, heavy-light embrace, the Cygiso