Silver Moraine [m] I a[m] the edge of the blade,

the wind carved through the mouth of the glacier, catching the distant note that hummed through snow-laced stone.
faust heard it.
the call—low, resonant, unmistakable—rippled over the ice and echoed through the halls of darukaal. a challenge, not in name but in essence. a summoning from the frost-bitten edge of the world. it was no stranger’s voice; it was hers. tikigâk.
the kaan emerged from the crag’s mouth, a shadow shaped from snow and war. his breath plumed from his nostrils, slow and heavy. there was no rush in him, only certainty. the kind of presence a mountain made when it moved.
down the slope he strode, each step silent but sure, until he came into view of the one who had called. broad. unyielding. eyes glacial, fixed solely upon her.
no words passed his lips. he merely stood—an answer.