In Glowveil Hollow, a quiet song rises from the firepit when the night is still and no one watches. The creature that sings is known by a single name, whispered among the trees.
When the embers glow low, a soft rustle stirs the ash. The bird perches on the rim, its feathers catching the flicker of violet flame.
Old travelers call it “Emberwing.” The name comes from the way its wings seem to melt into the fire’s light, a fleeting violet-green shimmer.
Emberwing sings only when no ears listen, a quiet promise that the hollow remains alive even in solitude.