Chapter 72 — The Forgotten Choir
The night before the journey, the wind refused to sleep.
It howled through the temple corridors, rattling the glass lanterns and sending petals scattering across the courtyard. The Ridge itself seemed restless—as if it, too, knew that dawn would carry away more than just light.
Arin stood alone in the Hall of Veins, staring at the map that shimmered faintly under the glow of the starlight crystals. The circle of black light that had appeared beyond the horizon pulsed faintly on the parchment, breathing like a living heart.
He could feel it calling him.
Each pulse tugged at the mark on his wrist—the one that had appeared after the last battle, etched into his skin by the Heart’s power. It glowed now, faintly silver around the edges, darkening toward the
