"Back again, little one?" "Did the Rift-Walker learn to care?" "Aye. But it took him far too long." He stitched the sky with silver thread, And wrote of worlds where no feet tread. One hearth would bless his passing name, Another feared the dragon's flame. Yet in his dreams, a little hand, A summer field, a distant land. The face was gone, the warmth remained— He turned the page and dreamed again. Seventy thousand winters flew, Yet something old kept breaking through. He knew the paths between the stars, But not the wound beneath his scars. SING LOW, SING LOW OF THE RIFT-WALKER! THE STAR-BOUND SAGE, THE SILENT WATCHER! HE FOLDS THE SKY! HE BENDS THE STONE! AND READS THE SECRETS IN OUR BONES! SING LOW, SING LOW OF THE RIFT-WALKER! A GUIDING HAND, A RESTLESS SEEKER! ONE HEARTH SINGS BLESSINGS BY THE FLAME, THE NEXT FALLS SILENT AT HIS NAME! The Lady of Blood, with fearless eyes, Would challenge all his learned replies. He studied secrets in her veins; She asked who suffered for his gains. She mocked his pride, yet chose to stay, And called him "Grandfather" one day. He laughed, but felt a warmth inside, A tenderness he could not hide. The pages turn... Her laughter stirred a half-known sound, A voice his memory could not find. But questions called; he turned away, And left that feeling for another day. "Then came the news..." "The Lady of Blood was dead." His quill fell silent on the page; No secret could undo that day. And through the silence came the sun, A little girl who used to run. A mortal home. A hand in his. A face he'd lost to centuries. His granddaughter—his own, long gone— Whose death had left him helpless once. THE FIRST HE LOST, TOO WEAK TO FIGHT! THE NEXT, WHILE CHASING DISTANT LIGHT! COULD HE HAVE SAVED HER? NONE COULD SAY! HE ONLY KNEW HE'D BEEN AWAY! "He remembered her at last." "And this time... he wasn't there." SING LOW, SING LOW OF THE RIFT-WALKER! THE STAR-BOUND SAGE, THE SILENT WATCHER! HE FOLDS THE SKY! HE BENDS THE STONE! BUT COULD NOT BRING HIS LOVED ONES HOME! SING LOW, SING LOW OF THE RIFT-WALKER! A GUIDING HAND, A RESTLESS SEEKER! HE CROSSED TEN THOUSAND WINTER SKIES, YET COULD NOT BEAR TWO LAST GOODBYES! And when the Lady's voice returned, He closed the book, his sorrow stirred. She was no ghost of long ago— Two different souls he'd come to know. "So he really did learn to care?" "Aye, little one." "More than he ever imagined." "But what happened to the Lady?" "Ah... she returned, child." "But her story is woven with another's." "A young prince who loved her dearly." "A prince?" "Aye. Come back tomorrow..." "And I'll tell you the tale of a prince who learned how to stand."
