At the center of the shadow, Elara found them. Dozens of villagers, including Joren, standing in a silent circle around a crack in the earth from which pulsed a low, mournful hum. Their eyes were closed, their lips moving without sound. They were feeding the mountain with their breath, their dreams, their will to live.
By nightfall, she saw the shadow.
She knelt at the crack in the earth. She placed her hand on the frozen ground. And she sang. Tu ja shti karin ne pidh