Chapter 63: The Four Anchors
The discovery in the cold larder was a fragile, trembling hope. It was a single, flickering candle in a vast, dark cave, but it was light. The principle was sound. A memory, made tangible through blood, ink, and a resonant object, could hold a pocket of reality against the blight. But one memory was not enough. They needed a chorus.
The rest of that night and the following day were spent in quiet, intense preparation. They were no longer planning an assault, but a ritual of remembrance. Their weapons would be not spells or blades, but the fundamental truths of who they were.
