Wild Berry Meadow the burn marks on my epiano wont go away

qiao had drank deep of the concoction she'd prepared in front of sayf. tipping the tortoise shell back to her lips, she swallowed and the world fell away.

somewhere voices roared like waterfalls crashing.

she followed a hidden thread outside of akashingo's gates; here her ears pounded, the rough whispers endless.

a forest. a plains. a meadow.

qiao's tongue was dry.

ahead of her a figure bent; it was here the golden threads all pulled, ending and bending around a wispy figure encased in filaments of light.

she blinked.

at its feet a skull with a pulsing aura. a totem -- something of great significance to the hemet.

is that yours, child? qiao called to the silence, her voice reverberating along the golden wires. the stars and flowers leaned in as she spoke, her held breath somehow keeping them in place.