“To the one who hears the unseen, The world calls upon you. Come to the Hall of Whispers, where the winds converge. Time is the tide; the storm approaches.”
Danielle’s heart pounded, not with fear, but with an undeniable sense of destiny. She packed a satchel with simple provisions—dried figs, a flask of spring water, and a small wooden flute her mother had carved for her—and set out at dawn, guided by the falcon’s steady gaze. excogi danielle