Before the Veil thinned and before the storm learned its voice, Baast walked the places where the world folded inward.

She wore no crown and carried no command. She did not rule what she crossed.

Where others carved names, Baast left silence. Where borders formed, she paused and allowed them to breathe.

The Nexus was not built by hand. It remained where she stepped aside and let it exist.

Those who crossed were not chosen. They endured what the crossing required of them.

When temples fell and stories scattered, Baast did not return.

She became the turning — the quiet moment between storms.