Whispers in the Ember

When the night settles and the last log sighs, a soft trill rises from the shadows. It is a song that no traveler hears, yet it carries a name older than the hollow itself.

Who Sings?

In the hush of the firepit, a small feathered keeper—known among the ancient trees as the Glintwing—perches on the cold stone. Its plumage catches the flicker of flame, turning violet and green with each note.

Why It Matters

Learning the Glintwing’s name is more than a curiosity; it is a promise to listen. By naming the song, the hollow remembers the quiet moments that shape its heart.