Aodains -

Elara sat on the gorge’s edge, legs dangling over a darkness that had no bottom. “So you came to ask me permission.”

In the salt-bitten village of Thornwell, no one spoke the old word aloud. It sat in the back of throats like a fishbone— aodain . Grandmothers used it as a lullaby’s ghost note. Children found it carved into the lintels of drowned churches. But only Elara knew what it meant, because only Elara had seen one. aodains

Venn’s shape shimmered. “Yes.”