A song that echoes in the heart of night:
"In the silence where starlight breathes,
where the forgotten turns to prophecy,
there sounds the Whisper of Lir —
between the light and the dark in one's eyes.
If you hear it — do not run.
If you see it — do not stay silent.
For the one who chooses the edge
will change the rhythm in every soul."
That night, Tarion could not sleep.
Ever since their return from the forest, it was as if the stone had left a mark inside him. His hands trembled, and his heart beat to the rhythm of a melody unknown — without words, but with meaning. With essence. With echo.
The village slept, wrapped in mist. But he stood alone at the cliff's edge, gazing at the star-drenched sky, which seemed closer than ever before.
And then, once again — he heard it.
"Tarion…"
But this time, it wasn't inside his mind. It rang in the air.
From the darkness, a figure emerged. It did not touch the ground. Its steps left no trace. It was made of light and smoke, of shadows and the dust of ancient time.
Eyes — like lakes where stars floated.
—
"You can hear me… Tarion of human blood. Of the world's body. And of the music of the dying."
Tarion stepped back. His palms ignited — not with fire, but with vibration running beneath his skin.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
"I am Lir, the spirit of the Crossroads. The last voice between Resonances.
My people are gone. I am the echo of loss… and the herald of return."
The spirit raised its hands. In the air before him, a sphere appeared — clear, pulsing — and inside it, Tarion saw what he could not comprehend:
— Forests weeping blood.
— A city of white stone collapsing into the abyss.
— Eyes — foreign, hollow.
— And himself… in armor he had never worn.
—
"You are no accident, Tarion. Your blood is mixed. Human… and deeper. Older.
There is Resonance in you. But you are not merely its bearer.
You are its spine."
"What does that mean?"
"That the world has not fallen yet… because you have not chosen a side."
Suddenly, the stars above began to dim. The world froze.
Lir moved closer — almost face to face. He placed a hand on Tarion's chest.
"Cursed is the one who hears the song but stays silent.
Cursed is the one who sees the Rift… and does nothing."
—
"You have three paths. One — destruction.
The second — preservation.
The third — transformation.
The choice is yours… but time is almost gone."
And with that, Lir dissolved into the night wind, leaving behind a single mark carved into the rock:
a crossing of four lines meeting at a single point.
A symbol of harmony.
Or a symbol of war.
—
At dawn, when Laina came to wake him, Tarion was no longer the same as he had been the day before.
"I saw a spirit," he said.
"He spoke of choice.
And now I know: Resonance isn't just magic.
It's what holds our world together… or tears it apart."