[A melodic psionic lullaby Lumiryn hums softly to the group as they rest—translated loosely into words:] [Whisper-hum over crackling driftwood fire…] Mmmm mmmmm mmmmm hmmmm mmmm mmmm mmmmmm Mmmm mmmmm mmmmm hmmmm mmmm mmmm mmmmmm Beneath the crust, where pressure sings, Where coral builds and time has wings, A forest grows in hidden hush, Its light from thought, its leaves from blush. No sun has touched its velvet roots, No stars have kissed its silver fruits, And yet it dreams in tidal tongue— The forest that forgot the sun. The Sea Below, it called me true— In currents deep, I followed you. Though danger weaves in every stream, You are the ripple in my dream. So guide me now through bark and bone, Where whisperfolk make moss their throne. And if we fall or if we run— Remember: We’re what light becomes. Mmmm mmmmm mmmmm hmmmm mmmm mmmm mmmmmm Mmmm mmmmm mmmmm hmmmm mmmm mmmm mmmmmm
