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Chapter 121: Calling Disturbance (2)
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... mains in my hand. The steak still sits half-eaten in my stomach, its juices turned to bitterness on my tongue.
"O beloved son, thou art my kin, no matter where thy roots begin.”
Most of the time, I do not listen to the lyrics. They are background, a murmur of divinity veiled in art. But now I do. Line after line, I catch words unfamiliar, slipping past me like shadows.
They belong to the gods’ tongue, yet they are not among those my tutor drilled into me when I was young. ...
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