Lyrics

Silas,” he said simply. “I’ve kept an eye on this gate long enough. I want to make a bigger difference ,If you're walking forward… so will I.” He joined us without ceremony, his silence steadier than the wind. It was as if he knew why I was there, how intriguing I guess even the spirits whisper about the Cerulean Vow. There were nights when we sat beside flickering lanterns, the spirit-heat faint, huddled beneath the shattered shell of old skyships. Clarissa would tell us about timelines that never happened. Silas would sit, unmoving, like a gravestone carved in thought. I said little. But for the first time in centuries… I listened to voices not my own..Her voice reached us next. We entered a village where grief sat like fog. The people there didn’t cry anymore—they had forgotten how. A curse had stolen their ability to mourn, replacing sorrow with hollow stares and numb silence. Then her voice cut through the haze like morning light. A single hymn, low and raw, drawn not from beauty but from ache. We found her kneeling in the center of the town square, palms resting on the earth. The villagers had gathered around her, not speaking, just listening. She looked up, eyes rimmed with silver glow, and met mine without fear. “I’m Iana,” she said gently. “If you’re looking for vengeance, I’m not your answer. But if you’re looking for a reason to stay… I’m here.” So poetic and fierce I like that . We were wondering if you wanted to help us create a world that we all can enjoy. That night, the curse lifted. And she never left. By the time we reached the volcanic rim near the old Herinn trade routes, we had already begun to feel like something whole. Not a unit. Not a team. But a promise forming We crossed into a smoke-cloaked outpost where nothing grew, where even spiritflame flickers uncertainty. The sky there rained static, and every home bore scorched prayers against the return of war. She found us.She walked out of the smoke and flipped a coin through the air. It landed edge-up between us. “Destiny,” she said. “I’ve got bad instincts and worse luck. But something tells me I’m supposed to be here.” She flicked the coin again, and this time I caught it. We made camp that night beneath a derelict satellite tower shaped like a fallen obelisk. As the wind howled through the broken steel, Clarissa wove small illusions of stars for the children in the village nearby. Iana sang softly under her breath. Silas stood watch, unmoving, his silhouette outlined against the glimmer of distant aurora flares. Destiny sat beside me and asked if I ever smiled. I said I used to. She didn’t press. She just said, “Same.” The final one found us. He came limping down the slope of a scrap valley—an artificial basin made from the remnants of old divine machines and half-eaten warforged. His body was half-repaired, patched together with mismatched plating and hope. I stepped forward. He stopped, chest lantern flickering. “I don’t have a name,” he said.