The stars shifted slowly above Miraen's head as the seasons turned across the recovering world. With each solstice, new festivals bloomed, old rituals returned with renewed meaning, and fresh legends took root. The scars of the Spire's collapse were still visible in many regions—deep craters, stretches of lifeless land, harmonized ruins—but people no longer feared these sites. They visited them as pilgrims, not to worship, but to remember.
In the stone city of Braveth, built atop the cliffs of the Sea of Teeth, the annual Dissonance Festival drew musicians and rebels from across the continent. Strange instruments played side by side—some fashioned from dragon bone, others made from sea-glass and woven air. No song was complete. That was the rule. Each melody had to be added onto by another. It became a living composition, drifting through the streets in pieces, stitched together by joyful chaos.
