On the evening of first-ice, in the ninth year of the Cwalnil, the growing clan was making final preparations for the long hard winter ahead. Earlier in the week, the men had returned from their last big hunt, and were making sure their huts were well sealed against the weather. The women had filled the food-caches, and the children were making a game of gathering tinder branches. All were too preoccupied to notice that their elder, Ylve Jįrukolos, had not been seen that day; if any thought of him had crossed their mind, they would have guessed that he was sleeping or wandering by the pond, which he had been doing often (rather too often, in the opinion of most).

Just as the sun set, all of the guard-fires around the camp went out. At that very moment the sounds of all the animals were silenced, except the howls of the kallati, which became much louder and almost rhythmic. The terrified clan ran quickly to hide in their huts, and only half of the men saw what happened next.

In the light of the two full moons, a rumble began to grow behind the treeline, until a monstrous shape tore through the edge of the forest. A hideous, massive shape they had never seen before staggered towards them. As tall as the trees and as dark as the night, its only visible features were its grotesque silhouette and its eight glowing yellow eyes. It stopped and stood in the center of the camp, and began to speak loudly in an unknown language, so loudly and deeply that all could feel the ground shake.

After it stopped speaking, something even more amazing happened. Ylve Jįrukolos, glowing in the same color as the beast's eyes, arose from the middle of the pond, and continued rising into the air above it. Transfixed on the beast, and floating vertically, he slowly drifted towards the camp until he was a hundred feet directly above the beast. After a pause, he began to chant slowly but firmly, the now sacred phrase "Urbükhtam Djür Djinnen". As soon as he repeated it the eighth time, he fell straight down through the beast, as fast as lightning. There was a brilliant golden flash, and both Ylve and the beast disappeared.

In their absence, an amber glow radiated on the ground where they had been. It reflected off of everything within an hour's-walk of the camp, as if an unseen torch were illuminating it. It continued glowing until the next full moon, and no snow fell on that ground through that winter. Other than that, the only trace of Ylve was the golden Szinaran Szitak, sitting on the ground at the very epicenter.

The next year brought the best harvest and hunting the young tribe had ever seen, as well as the best weather. Also, the kallati and the other dangerous animals stayed much farther away from the city for many years.