SILVER PACT
Yet as the adepts worked, the threads in their containers pulsed unpredictably, reacting to their fear of losing control.
Outside, the younger adepts whispered in secret:
“What if Iluren wants us to let go?”
“Then the Custodians will destroy what they fear to understand.”
Thousands of leagues south, the Third Voice had become a movement of living resonance. Their adepts and children gathered in vast open camps where bloomlight shimmered like morning dew. They no longer performed rituals; they simply listened. The bloom’s hum guided their choices sometimes gently, sometimes painfully.
Ari had come among them, her presence quiet but powerful. She wore no insignia, only a silver thread at her w
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