Werita Tuilas recieved word of the incident within two minutes of it happening, after the two boys, who had witnessed the crash landing, sent a message to their parents, telling them about the explosion and the object that lay smouldering in the crator.

Werita looked out over the balcony of his Dredskuyl Tower, gazing into the distance.
From here, he could see the smoke.

Werita’s main Presidential Aid, named Nertik, came up beside him.

“How long will it take us to get there,” asked Werita.

“Not long,” Nertik replied.

Werita released a long-held breath, the exhalation shaky.

“What is wrong, Werita?”

“I fear that this may be…”

The President paused, his anxiety overtly prevalent, his head bowed.

“May be what, Werita?”

Werita Tuilas looked up again, his eyes glassed over, as if in a trance.

“There is this feeling…deep within me. A dreading of an event to come. I cannot explain it. I cannot define it. But I fear this may be the beginning of something terrible.”