By IMERPUS RELUR
--
He found a scroll.
It had no ink.
But he read it anyway.
Each letter was carved into his breath.
He reached the final line.
> It was a name.
Not given.
Not earned.
His name.
The one no one had ever spoken.
And when he said it aloud—
The air cracked.
The past screamed.
And the future waited.