[c=#2dba69]The Coral Chant — Part 1
The Muffled Chant[/c]

[c=#e3aaeb][i]Found in an abandoned underwater tomb, trapped in stone.
The scroll had resisted the water, as if the sea itself kept it readable.[/i][/c]

They have no voice.
No moan, no cry.
But the silence they leave behind is heavier than mourning.

The ancient reefs carried the Breath like a song.
Each branch, each polyp, formed a voice in an underwater choir.
And when those voices faded, the sea grew colder, more mute.

The Watcher of the Dunes bore no tools, no offerings.
Only a flute with spiraled patterns, engraved with symbols worn by salt.
They said it made no sound...
unless one simply blew.

One day, he learned to play it.
Not with skill.
But with care.
And when the right sequence echoed in the hollow of a shore,
a dead coral shivered, then regained its color.

He did not understand immediately.
But he knew the song held something ancient.
A forgotten chord,
a fluid memory
that only a few living beings could still make resonate.

If you read these words, it means the flute is in your hands.
Listen.
The dead do not cry.
But around you, some fragments await the right breath.

You do not heal with gestures.
You recall a note to the world.

"At the bottom of the scroll, a strange sequence of letters stretches out, like a hidden melody: e g e c f a f d"