Always Remember
Not all broken things forget their shape.
Before these places had names, there was a single thread.
It wound sky to stone, bone to soul — a line no blade could sever.
Those who followed it sometimes found the place where the first resonance was born.
But only if the thread remembered them.
Once, a Keeper tried to cut it.
They say the thread had knotted around her heart, each pull stealing her breath, each night tightening until she woke gasping in the dark.
Her blade was sharp enough to split iron. It passed through the thread without sound.
By morning, the cut had closed.
Her shadow lay on the ground behind her, severed clean.
It did not rise when she stood. It never followed her again.
Some say she still walks the places where the Veil thins, her steps making no sound.
Others say the Glain keeps her shadow, because it knew her shape — and shapes, once remembered, are never truly lost.
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