Faces appeared—men and women from different generations, each standing where Lina stood now, hand pressed to the column.

  Among them was her mother.

  Lina’s breath caught. Her mother had died when she was sixteen. She had always seemed drawn to the cliffs, though she never explained why.

  Now Lina understood.

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  Her mother had been a Keeper.

  The humming returned, softer now.

  It was not merely sound. It was memory preserved in stone—every joy, every grief, every act of courage woven into vibration.

  But memory required a listener.

  Without one, the song would fade into silence.

  “You have been chosen.”

  The words no longer felt mysterious. They felt heavy.

  Lina had dreamed of cities where trains ran all night and streets glowed with electric light. She had imagined herself stepping onto a platform, leaving the cliffs behind forever.

  But if she left, who would listen?