Chapter 71 — Whispers Beyond the Veil
The world was not still for long.
When the Ridge fell silent, the wind carried its song farther than it ever had before. Across oceans and frozen plains, through forests of silver ash and deserts that never slept, the breath of the reborn mountain stirred things that had lain dreaming for centuries.
And dreams, once woken, do not return to sleep so easily.
Arin felt it first—not in his ears, but in his blood.
The morning had begun peacefully enough. The sky was a pale gold, the garden alive with the whisper of petals turning to greet the sun. Lyra was kneeling by the edge of the new stream, her fingers tracing patterns in the water. Children from the nearby village laughed somewhere down the slope, their joy bright as bells.
Yet, beneath it all,
