Ora
TWINS. OF COURSE IT WAS TWINS.
The same green eyes and dark hair. The same golden heart, I already knew it. I could already hear the first notes of their songs: one loud and confident, the other quieter but just as clear. I’d sing them these lullabies on my next turn through Olmdere.
Their entry into the world so much more peaceful than the generation before. A good omen. The continuation of the golden reverie.
Many songs would be sung, but none more sacred than the ones yet to be written.
I turned back to Galen den’ Mora, a quiet tune on my lips. Time to find more stories yet untold. I’d visit again soon, but first I had new places to discover, new towns to explore, new lost souls that needed finding just waiting to be unearthed.
The wheels of Galen den’ Mora would never stop turning. For nothing ever truly began and ended; it simply flowed.