Ravenbreath

The Song That Isn’t Yours - Ravenbreath

Those Left Behind

The fires may have burned out, but the scars linger—an aftermath that whispers of something worse, still smoldering in the smoke.

The Wild and the Walled

Beyond the city’s stone and smoke, the land grows untamed—forests thick with whispers, coves where shadows trade in silence.

A Pact in the Dark

A silent pact in the ruins, where history’s ghosts still listen.

2
Relics
3
Ancestries
5
Rumor Mills
15
Villages
32
Fables

The Song That Isn’t Yours: Every Note a Lie

They arrive where the music is needed most—and wanted least. Pirate taverns, noble courts, secret parlors lit by candlelight and secrets. Their songs don’t beg for attention—they demand it. And once the lute begins to glow, no one looks away.

No one remembers quite what was said afterward either.

There’s talk of an enchanted instrument, one strung with something more than catgut and charm. Some say it carries a tune that binds. Others say it takes. But none speak of it twice. What lingers after a performance is not melody—it’s loss, the kind you don’t notice until something you loved feels missing.

They don’t stay long. Just long enough to be noticed. And just long enough to leave you wondering what else they carried away besides coin and applause.

Because somewhere between verses and vanished memories, a pattern forms. They’re not gathering fans. They’re gathering something else.

Aldrin Dawnsinger Image

Aldrin Dawnsinger 

A soft hum floated through the dark as candlelight flickered. Fingers traced a string, and someone dropped their cup. "Oops," they whispered, laughter dancing beneath the melody. "Clumsy hands. Looser tongues." Another note. Another heartbeat skipped. "I didn’t ask for your secrets," they purred, voice silk-smooth. "But thank you for offering."

The Lute of Hollow Echoes 

Aldrin

Fingers danced across the gilded strings, coaxing light with each note. A man in the corner froze mid-laugh, the sound caught in his throat. "That song…" he murmured, brow furrowing. "I know that—" The next chord stole the thought. The bard smiled faintly, not missing a beat. "You did," they whispered, almost tender. "But it’s mine now."

The Lute of Hollow Echoes Image

You won’t remember the song—but they’ll remember everything you forgot.