Soul Land: Origin of Humanity

The council chamber in the City of Beginning had never been so full—not even during the crisis of the beast tide, nor the earliest days when we clung to survival like embers in a storm. Tonight, every seat was filled and then some: elders and representatives from every great city, delegates of trade, scholars of the academy, artisans, guild leaders, and those who had journeyed weeks just to witness history. The banners of a dozen cities hung from the rafters, a riot of color and pride.

I sat at the circular table's head, the murmurs of anticipation swirling around me. My old friends—stalwarts from the founding days—were now joined by faces I barely recognized: young, determined, and carrying the confidence of a people who had built their own destiny. Somewhere in the gallery, my mother and brothers watched, pride and worry mixing in their eyes.

A bell sounded, calling the hall to order. The eldest councilor from Green River, her hair a silver crown, stood to speak. "We gather in peace, as one people. Let us honor those who brought us here, and let us look boldly to the future."

A chorus of assent rolled through the chamber.

The first matter was the question everyone had come to answer: Where will we place the heart of our new nation? The discussion was passionate and, at times, heated.

A burly man from Dawn City stood first, voice booming. "Let the capital be the City of Beginning! It was our spark, our shield, our guide. What city better honors our story?"

Immediately, the representative from Starfall rose, eyes blazing with civic pride. "But is not Starfall the crossroads of trade? We connect north and south, east and west. Make us the capital, and all roads will lead to the heart of humanity!"

Others spoke up in turn—Green River with its fertile fields, Ironhaven with its legendary forges, Silver Vale with its strategic cliffs. Old rivalries resurfaced, passions flared, but beneath it all I sensed something deeper: everyone wanted the future to be fair. No one wished to see a single city, or family, or guild hold too much sway over the others.

Proposals grew creative. One elder suggested a rotating capital, shifting every ten years. Another wanted a council split among three cities. For hours, arguments and counter-arguments circled the hall. Yet, for all their wisdom, the elders saw that agreement would not come easily.

At last, the chamber quieted. All eyes turned to me.

The silver-haired councilor spoke for them all. "Ye Caiqian, you led us through our darkest nights. You know our hopes—and our faults. What would you have us do?"

I stood slowly, letting the silence settle. The moment felt heavy—not just with the expectations of the room, but with the dreams of generations.

"I am honored by your faith," I said, meeting the eyes of each delegate in turn. "The City of Beginning was my home, and the home of many of you. But if we choose any city—this one or another—resentment will fester, and division will find us sooner or later."

I paced the inner ring of the table, my words measured and clear. "Let us do something new, as our ancestors did when they built this world. Let us found a new city, in a new place—a place belonging to all of us, not to one or a few. Let it be built together, a symbol of our unity and our hope."

For a heartbeat, there was only silence. Then a voice called from the crowd: "A new city! One we all raise together!"

Excitement surged, murmurs turning to laughter and applause. I saw doubt vanish from the faces of even the most stubborn councilors. For a rare, shining moment, we were truly united.

Now came the matter of the name.

The hall erupted in suggestions—some grand, some humble, some playful. But one rose above the rest, spreading from person to person like fire catching in dry grass.

"Everglow!"A voice called it first from the back."City of Everglow!" echoed another."The Country of Everglow!" a third.

Soon the whole hall was chanting, a tide of hope and conviction. I smiled, heart full, and nodded my assent.

"Let it be so," I declared, voice ringing with the pride and gravity of the moment. "Our new capital will be the City of Everglow, and our new nation—the Country of Everglow. May its light never fade, no matter what the world may bring."

The cheer that followed shook the banners from the rafters.

With the heart of our new country named, we turned to its mind and soul.

The debate moved to government, justice, and law. Here, I leaned heavily on memories from another life, weaving old wisdom with the needs of our world.

"We must not let power gather in the hands of a few, nor let tradition harden into tyranny," I told them. "Let us create a Council of Elders, drawn from every great city and major guild. Let their number be odd, so that ties are broken, and let them serve for fixed terms, replaced and rotated regularly. No family or faction will hold sway for too long."

"For matters of national importance—a new law, a declaration of war, a change to our founding code—let a three-quarters majority be required. This is our shield against haste and corruption. City councils will still manage their homes, but the Council of Elders will guard the nation's unity."

I watched as the ideas sparked debate. Some elders pushed for more autonomy, others for stronger central authority. Guilds and associations sought guarantees for their members. Together, we hammered out the compromises: a federation of cities, with both city rights and a national court; a system of rotating justices and traveling magistrates; protection for minorities, free guilds, and the right to petition.

By dawn, the council had forged something new—an order built not on fear or might, but on trust and shared vision.

As the council finalized the accords, scribes wrote out the new name for all to see:The Country of Everglow.Its heart: The City of Everglow.

A great seal was pressed into wax, and each elder came forward to sign. Some wept openly. Others stood in silent, awed pride.

At last, the silver-haired councilor placed her hand on mine. "You have given us more than guidance, Caiqian. You have given us hope. Everglow will be a beacon for all who seek a better world."

The sun crested the horizon, spilling golden light through the chamber's windows. It caught the banners, the faces, the scrolls—transforming everything it touched.

I stood at the window as the city stirred below, and for the first time since returning, I felt at peace. The world would change, always. But now, hope would endure—an everglow, shining for all.