The wind had whispered to me for as long as I could remember, secrets no one else could hear. In Makuda, the storms never rested, and the voices in their winds were mine alone to hear. For years I thought them harmless—until the day they led me to the ruin. In its depths, those whispers became something more—an invitation. A choice. And when I found that black tome, I understood too late that some paths cannot be untreaded.