Larksong Grotto you will only hear these elegant crimes

She swallowed the lump in her throat, looking up at Alarian. Managed a shaky smile, despite the emotions threatening to weigh her down, down, into the water. "My family," she whispered, and as if a spell was broken, their scents faded, voices ceased. "As if they were here. As if I'd never left them."

But she had, and no magic pool could change that. Only a moment it had given her, not nearly enough time with them. Perhaps if she'd remained silent, not have given them away, they would have stayed. But they didn't belong here. This was not their home. It was hers, the home she had chosen, rather than the home she'd been born into.

There was magic in this place, a twisted, deep magic. A magic that made you want for things that had ceased to be. No good came from living in the past, and Lily stepped away from the pool, padding softly around the grotto instead.

"I wonder if this place was settled, before," she murmured, though her question was answered faintly, if one took the time to look hard, or breathe deep. The faintest traces of settlement were here--a scent here and there, abandoned dens. She wondered how they had handled the magic; perhaps it had driven them to madness.