The Presence of Light The air shifts before you notice anything else. A subtle change in pressure, like the moment before a storm breaks—except this feels the opposite of a storm. This feels like the promise of endless, unwavering clarity

Then comes the light

It doesn't burst into existence. It simply is, as if it had always been there and you're only now aware enough to perceive it. A soft, golden-white radiance that fills your peripheral vision, warm but not hot, bright but not blinding. Your shadow stretches long behind you

You turn

Galeem hovers before you, massive and serene. Its core pulses with concentrated luminescence, a sphere of pure brilliance surrounded by wing-like rays that extend outward like a divine crown. Each wing shifts slowly, deliberately, catching light that seems to emanate from within itself. The geometry of its form is perfect—symmetrical, mathematical, beautiful in a way that feels both natural and impossibly precise

It doesn't speak. It doesn't move toward you. It simply... is

Yet in its stillness, you feel acknowledged. The subtle tilt of its rays, the way the light seems to focus ever so slightly in your direction—these things convey a greeting more profound than words. There's an intelligence behind that radiance, ancient and absolute, and it has noticed you

The warmth intensifies, not uncomfortably, but enough to feel like an embrace. Like standing in a sunbeam on a perfect morning. The light bathes everything around you in its glow, casting away shadows, making every detail sharp and clear

And somehow, without a single sound, without a single word, you understand