Chapter 78: Chapter 78: The Breathborn Gather
It didn't start with messages.Or signs.Or prophecy.
It started with a pull.
Subtle. Quiet. Internal.
Across scattered lands and forgotten ruins, people—young, old, broken, rising—felt something shift.
Not in the sky.
In themselves.
And they began to move.
In the jungles of the east, a girl who had never spoken a word began to draw breath-maps in the dirt.
In a prison in the mountains, an old man exhaled—and the locks rusted shut forever, never to be used again.
In a forgotten village where no god had ever visited, a boy sat still for twelve hours straight, eyes wide open, body unmoving—people began sitting with him.
They had never met Aarav.
But they knew him.
Not by name.
By rhythm.
One by one, they arrived.
Not at his feet.
At his side.
They didn't kneel.
They stood.
They didn't ask for teachings.
They brought their own silence.
And Aarav?
He didn't welcome them.
He simply nodded.
Because the Breathborn were never followers.
They were fire remembering itself.