The Son of Whisperwind

e, a tiny knitted ca

, and we nea

erly grieve, my wife, Izzy,

crifice for him: our son, a victim

g, ready to exploit our ancient, sacred land,

w, tried to warn them, and for tha

d my pleas, then knocked me unconsc

hear they'd f

a "dead man," manipulated, then "murde

zzy planned to use our baby' s ashes i

lculated cruelty, left me numb, th

those loyal to the Holl

itage, it amplifi

s undoing, and Izzy's choices,

I was always meant to be: the true Keeper,