Plaguebringer666
When the Wind forgets how to breathe, the world begins to burn.
The Black Wind paused once - not defeated, not silenced, merely listening.
Now, the silence is over.
In the aftermath of the False Mask's unraveling, Nyss bears the weight of a fractured Cycle and a song that no longer follows any known rhythm. Her Windscar grows deeper, shifting from sigil to sentence. The world around her begins to suffer for it: birds scream prophecy, rivers flow backward, and the sky remembers flames it never carried.
Worse still, a Cycle has begun without sanction. A False Wind rises - stitched from borrowed voices, severed memories, and echoes that should not return.
As Lira struggles to reclaim her voice and unravel the scars left by Velcrith's betrayal, Nyss is forced to seek out forbidden avatars of the Wind: dormant Masks that once refused their own purpose. One of them may hold the key to resetting the balance.
But the price of such knowledge is high - and some truths are not meant to be sung.
Allies fray. Shadows remember. And beneath the ruins of Aurin's final song, a new voice stirs - one that does not mourn, or balance, or end.
It devours.
This is not a song of healing.
This is a hymn for what was lost - and what must stay buried.
"Some songs are too old to end. I just sing them quieter... until they forget I'm still breathing."
Nyss of the Hollow Voice, "The Gaunt Cantor"
"She stole my voice to make a god. I'll use what's left to burn hers out of the sky."
--Lira Thorne
"We don't sing to survive. We sing because something older than silence is listening."
--Nyss and Lira
"They called it silence. I called it the scream no one survived long enough to hear."
- Velcrith Varn, the False Mask