It is bright. Sunlight, Bastion recognizes. Sounds–the chirping of living animals, birds of all kinds, the rustling of leaves and foliage, the faint touch of water, a river, running through the forest.

Moss clings to him, soft as a blanket, wrapping his metal plates in green whispers. Insects have made their home in the crevices of his joints, some scared off by the sudden warmth he now radiates.

A sound escapes him, a low hum, as he strains to rise from the earthly roots of the ground. He lifts his gaze to the sky, scanning the endless expanse, and exhales what must be a soft sigh of relief.

Hello, world.