(Across Cult Territories, The Day of the Announcement)
When the announcement about the next Dragon being chosen finally became public, the emotions it aroused from the masses were nothing short of cataclysmic.
They had been waiting for their next messiah for over three long decades—thirty years of silence, thirty years of fractured hope, thirty years of watching the Cult stagger through uncertainty without its spiritual leader.
And then, without warning, one fine morning as sunlight cracked over the horizon, it happened.
The skies on each and every single Cult controlled planet flickered with shimmering glyphs and projection banners, each spelling out a singular message.
[ In 57 days, the next Dragon will be chosen! ]
The news burst through radio towers and satellite streams, rolled off the tongues of holographic anchors, and echoed across every corridor of the Cult's domains.
