The wind-whittled skeletal stones here sing of the Great Storm. The Irisireph cloaked us in sound-bending wards, and we survived.

The oldest ritual site. To go completely silent during a storm is despair; we must sing back to the world so it does not forget us.

Follow the resonant wind corridors. A shattered wagon wheel was left here, broken into seven parts, so the spirit may travel with the wind.