It has always been an unnerving moment for the entire Valley. Most people tended to huddle up inside and pray. Today is the day rock rain strikes. Twenty-first of Sardon, the end of spring and beginning of autumn.

  The three of us stand south of the impressive edifice of the facade, on one of the many stout Winged-high balconies dotting the face of the eastern cliff; prepared to watch the macabre spectacle. Unlike the nding ptform, this balcony was very private and rather small with barely enough room for Hebe, Michael, and me to stand next to each other shoulder to shoulder.

  ''It will hold,'' Hebe notes while looking up. I'm standing in the middle and she is on my right. Again, the spectacur view is a masterwork from the artist called nature but today all the attention is on the up, not down.

  ''It will hold.'' Michael and I repeat the popur maxim in a quiet chorus.

  The most unnerving part is that there is no lightning, no roar of thunder announcing what is to come. That quiet before it starts is what gets under the heart of many. At least that's how I've heard my grandfather put it.

  Mother never allowed me to watch and would sometimes even lock me, unsuccessfully, in my room to stop me from going to the roof.

  Three conjoined epic domes of power are formed, with the middle one being far above Sol—so far above. Together they cover the entire canyon and from my understanding a decent-sized area beyond it. Semi-transparent blue haze is all that protects our homes from becoming rubble.

  The specially-chosen priests and a select few, guard the secret of how exactly the Aegis operates but it is known rge Cobalts are involved and that the Academy pys a critical role in obtaining it. Punishments for trying to uncover more about this topic are draconian and so I cked any particur desire to learn more.

  Michael can't stop twiddling his fingers and Hebe swallows hard, with annoying regurity. I can't say there is not a tiny sense of dread in me. But, it's more that I don't like this annual event than fear it. Yet I can't resist the grim spectacle. Why do we want to look at things that give us unease?

  Curiosity? Distraction? Or something more morbid. I'll debate that with myself tonight while trying to fall asleep.

  It begins.

  Plumes of blue haze ripple, a few at first and then many soon after, until the pretty blue shield is swarmed with ''the tears of the goddess.'' I consider it a silly and overdramatic expression but some schors theorized how this regur event is a reminder for humanity to be more pious or something. Rock rain is so punctual that Lodestar uses it to fix the time on its big water chronos.

  Each impact spot is marked by concentric circles which radiate outwards. The waves, if I can call them that, have a slightly darker shade of blue haze to them. Resembling a rge ke's pristine surface being overwhelmed by a hailstorm from a cruel darkening sky. Except that Aegis can never be overwhelmed. The entire surface of the mighty shield receives merciless hammerblows, the rocks beyond count sm it again and again, sparing no spot, giving no respite, making the pale blue light pulsate and spread in a pattern of growing rings that mix and fuse—as far as the eye can see.

  The monster is hitting the gates with all its strength. The distant deep roiling sound is thrumming with a symphony that echoes throughout the Valley. Infinity of Void's vicious drummers py a dreadful-violent cadence to produce a sound that I can only describe as a distant deep stomach growling of some ravenous, Alldora-sized creature. Try as I might, my ears struggle to make the sound clearer or much stronger.

  Like blood droplets across the skin, swarming hordes of crushed and pulverized rocks slide and roll across Aegis until most of the dusty junk and small lumpy broken stones finally fall well beyond the limits of the canyon itself. Forming entire hills purely made out of piled gray substance.

  The recent prime brightness of midday clouds gave way to twilight in the Valley. Our new skies are akin to gss smeared with fine dust and rubble.

  Due to the cursed jutting rock of the cliff, I can't see Sol—although this didn't stop me from leaning on the carved balustrade and throwing more than a few gnces northwards. Sol's shine is always stronger with diminishing light.

  The thrumming slowly disappears and Aegis, the grandest of bulwarks, is soon to follow. The once pale blue slowly fades away. Sad. Why does that make me sad? Dust will soon bnket the Valley in a vile cough-inducing shroud forcing those unfortunate enough to be outside to wear wetted scarfs over their noses and mouths until the dust settles. If you're really desperate you can pee on a piece of cloth or a cloak. I've read about such things happening in the Wastes. My mom did not enjoy me mentioning that at dinner once, years ago. Not one bit.

  We should move inside before such a need arises, but my eyes keep looking up as if willing Aegis to reappear. I then look north for let's say a second time.

  My thoughts fly the fastest flight back to Lodestar. Gray Breakers and their crystalborn will take weeks to fully clean all the pzas and other public spaces. I've heard of some familiars with rge tongues that can pick up and consume the dust and tiny pebbles from the streets or roofs, a most unsavory meal which ter must be regurgitated at proper water channels flowing northwards.

  Someone's hand on my right shoulder snaps me away from my reflections. ''Ann?'' Hebe asks. ''We should go.''

  Michael is already a few steps ahead of us looking back at me. ''All good?''

  I nod at them while giving a reassuring tiny smile. ''Just thinking of home, as always.''

  We walk away from the balcony, deeper inside the cliff and Michael closes the door at the soon-approaching gray miasma behind.

  Screw the goddess and her ''tears.'' Glory to Aegis.