When the silence finally reached the plains, it wore a human shape.

Togulas Holmrajin walked among the herds that grazed under the half-formed sun. The air trembled in his wake, warping the cries of the beasts into a single rhythmic moan. Each creature lifted its head in unison, eyes empty, yet filled with something brighter than life — reflection. His reflection.

He did not command with words. His presence alone rewrote instinct.  

The deer forgot to flee, the predators forgot to hunt. A perfect stillness rippled outward, turning life into a breathing monument. It was then he understood that the mind of one could become the mind of all.

He reached out toward a shepherd watching from afar. The man’s fear was raw, a spark against the cold field of obedience. Togulas admired it. Resistance made flavor. He focused, and the shepherd’s skull lit from within, veins glowing like molten gold beneath the skin. The man’s pupils dilated until they dissolved into pure white.

“See for me,” Togulas whispered through the wind.

The shepherd fell to his knees. When he opened his mouth, dozens of voices spoke at once — male, female, animal, infant. A harmony without meaning. The herd turned toward him, and through their eyes, Togulas saw himself multiplied across flesh.

For the first time, he had sight beyond his own body.  

Every creature was now a lens; every consciousness a door.

The phenomenon spread faster than fire. Villages collapsed into the unity of his gaze. Hunters slit their throats in unison as if performing a forgotten rite. Mothers smothered their infants in sleep, whispering his name with serene smiles. The sky itself seemed to bend downward, a curtain drawn by unseen hands to watch the performance.

At dusk, a thousand figures stood along the horizon — humans, animals, hybrids of both, each with hollow sockets gleaming faintly gold. Their synchronized breathing became the pulse of the earth.

They waited for him to speak, but Togulas had no need.  

They already knew every thought he had ever conceived.

He smiled, and a thousand identical smiles rippled through the plain.  

In that moment, individuality ceased to exist. The concept of “I” dissolved into “We,”  

and “We” became **His Eyes.**

From this union, the first language of domination was born —  

not carved in stone, not spoken in air, but inscribed upon the nervous system of every living thing.

When night came, the stars refused to shine. Not out of fear, but obedience.