C76 The Naming Wind

Wind rose as the light from the tree deepened.

Not harsh, not cold—an exhale from the earth itself. The cloth strips rustled like tongues preparing to speak, and the air shimmered with invisible threads drawn from the flamewalkers’ breath, memory, and silence.

Ember stood closest. Her eyes were closed. She wasn’t praying.

She was listening.

From the branches came names.

Whispered.

Layered