Wind coils around the ribs of the world, whispering through teeth of stone. I breathe in the cold of the ancestors, let it settle behind my tongue, heavy as iron, sharp as winter. Crackling branches answer, the forest stirs, half waking, half remembering. Deep in the chest, the drone begins, a low animal rumble, older than language, older than bone. Staff to earth. Staff to earth. Each strike a heartbeat for something not yet born. A single scream tears the sky open, not rage, not fear, but recognition. The mountain answers in broken harmonics, a jagged mirror of my voice. I call again, throat raw, breath burning like resin on coals. Come forth, antler shadow. Come forth, frost jaw. Come forth, sky marrow, eater of storms. I name you with spit and grit, consonants cracking like hooves on shale. Fen claw. Root walker. Night hunger. Rise from the hollow places. A circle of voices forms, rising, falling, weaving, each tone a thread of smoke. Yoik carries the memory of those who walked before us, their breath still warm in the soil. We do not sing about them. We sing them. "Who walks the wind path with fire in their lungs" "We do. We do." "Who binds the night with iron breath" "We do. We do." "Who wakes the sleeping earth" "We do. We do." "Who remembers the forgotten names" "We do. We do." Strike the ground until the roots tremble. Strike the ground until the stones reply. Strike the ground until the pulse beneath us matches the pulse within us. The drone sinks lower, a cavern opening in the chest. Breath becomes fog. Fog becomes form. My voice fractures into harmonics, splitting like ice under weight. I am no longer one. I am many. Let the breath break. Let the voice split. Let the throat open to the dark between worlds. I feel the old power coil around my spine, a serpent of memory and hunger. Wings of shadow press against my ribs, waiting for the moment I surrender. I step into the circle of sound, and the circle steps into me. Let the wings of shadow unfold. Let the bones remember their shape. I rise through smoke and ruin, crowned in the dust of old worlds. Not reborn, but revealed. I am the echo that outlived the mountain. Breath softens. Staff stills. Only wind remains, carrying our names into the dark.
