When the night settles over Glowveil Hollow, a soft melody drifts from the ember‑glow. No one is there to hear, yet the bird sings its secret name.
Deep in the hollow, a circle of stones cradles the fire. The heat coaxes a shy creature from the shadows, its feathers catching the flicker.
Its tune is a simple three‑note trill, rising like a spark and falling like ash. The notes spell a name that belongs to the night itself.
Listen closely, let the silence settle, and the name will settle in your mind: Emberwing. It is the word that the firepit whispers when no ears are listening.