On mist-laced nights, when the wind carries a chill unearned, travelers in Evenfall speak of a spectral voice singing on the breeze—haunting, wordless, and mournfully exquisite. Those who follow it never return… or return changed, whispering her name: Serelthia.
Known to locals as Gnashburrow, this unusually large and aggressive ankheg has become a subterranean terror beneath the Verdure Meadows, ripping up crops, devouring livestock, and tunneling so close to homes that entire buildings have collapsed into the earth.
A stone never lies. But it does take finesse to get it to speak.
Every shard reflects the world a little differently. The trick is deciding which one to keep.
The truth is just ink on paper. I use better ink.
I don’t wear masks to lie, darling—I wear them to tell the truth more safely.