Luneshale Pass Heavy as the weight in my chest, oh, this seldom dread

a mother with a child who sang to Ra as though she might have been born in akashingo.

the song came so easily to reverie that the priest found himself watching her hold the last notes. his lips tipped with a smile; as not to pressure, he glanced up and away.

"come back when the queen is to be married," came his quiet invitation. "i would like you to sing again. perhaps an arrangement from your Gilded Sea, noble one."