The song that Solenne and Coren created did not end in that hidden city. It spread—first slowly, like a cautious ripple, then furiously, like a river released from centuries of ice. The City of Dusk, once a monument to exile, became the birthplace of a new understanding: that light and darkness were not enemies but partners in a greater melody.
As they ascended from the ruins, the sands shifted behind them, sealing the city once more—not as a tomb, but as a womb for future voices who might need to learn the same truths. No one could own that city now. It belonged to the world.
Solenne and Coren returned to the surface changed.
Coren, once a boy trapped in timeless sorrow, now bore the weight of duality within him. The Dirge had marked him, but Solenne's song had tempered it. His voice resonated with a deeper current—a reminder of everything lost and everything still possible.
