Centuries later, the story of Iarabroin is told to children as a bedtime tale. In the quiet corners of Lythoria, a faint, silvery ink still glows in the old notebook, waiting for a new hand to dip a quill. The ink whispers, “Tell me a story, and I will give you a world. But remember—every world you give away takes a piece of you, and every piece you receive makes you whole.”
Chapter 5 – The Great Chronicle
She realized she was not merely reading a story—she was inside it. Her heart swelled, and she felt a pang of loss as a fragment of her own memory—her mother's lullaby—faded into the ether, feeding the world she had just created. iarabroin