The Four Giants
The Ancient Pillars of the Heavens
We are the bones of the world, and time is crumbling.
We are the breath of the canyon, the roots of the tallest tree, the veins of the earth, and the pulse of the storm. We remember when mountains were young and the rivers ran wild. Betrayed by rot, forgotten by those we held above the dirt, we watched the sky crack. But a child came, bearing the weight of cycles, and woke us once more. We answer not to gods, but to the land—and to the courage that remembers what the world has tried to forget.
What I'm Into: the groan of shifting stone, the stories rivers carry, winds that cut through lies, the deep rot that feeds new roots, a boy who turned back time
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