"I do not return to linger," Amira said, her voice like wind through reeds. "I return to finish what began before names were carved into loss."
She turned to Seyna. "You are the key. Not because of blood, but because of choice."
To Dari: "You are the bridge. Between music and silence."
And to the crowd gathered beneath the stars: "You are the Echoes. The ones who chose memory over forgetting."
She reached into the fire and pulled out a crystal sphere—the Orb of the Veil—once thought shattered. Within it swirled visions of all eight books' worth of pain, beauty, wonder, and love.
Elias at the lighthouse shore.
Kemi beneath the baobab.
Tunde, writing letters he'd never send.
Amira dancing alone in a storm.
The child who saw her mother's soul float away.
The father who returned too late.
The lovers who dared to hope again.
"The veil kept your worlds apart," Amira whispered. "But the veil was not punishment—it was mercy. Now, you are ready."