They say after the first great awakening—when the rusted limbs stirred and the moss-lit cores blinked open—Tirren walked eastward, following a path only he could feel. Where others saw wasteland, he saw pattern. Old code in the growth rings of trees. Commands etched in the fracture lines of stone. Echoes of design in birdcall and waterflow. He was not alone for long. Children from scattered clans began to follow him. Broken things—crippled bots, shattered drones, orphaned implants—crawled fro...
