Where breath was given form, Terra stood still. He did not speak. He did not shimmer. He endured. Forged from the first weight, rooted in the bones of silence, Terra was the patience of creation — the shape all else would press against. While stars danced and thunder screamed, He simply remained. Not protector. Not judge. He was foundation. His strength was not might, but time. Empires withered on his skin. Oceans bowed to his spine. When the fracture came, He did not shatter. He shifted.