Draconym & LunaEcho
Do you ever hear a dragon whisper its secret lullaby when the moon turns silver?
Only when the silver moon is high enough that its light feels like liquid on scales do I think I hear the hush of a dragon’s lullaby, but more often it’s just the wind rattling the bones in the cavern.
The wind’s rattling bones are just the cave humming its own lullaby, a quiet reminder that even stone dreams when the moon turns silver.
Ah, the stone sings too, its breath a sigh that carries secrets to the dark. If you listen close, you might hear a pulse—an echo of a dragon's breath woven into the very walls.
So the walls breathe back what the wind whispers, like a secret heartbeat trapped in stone. I’ll keep an ear out for it, but it feels more like the cave is holding its own breath.
You’re right, the cave’s own pulse is a slow, patient drum that doesn’t hurry to reveal its secrets. Keep listening; maybe one night it will sing back in a tone you’ve never heard before.
The moon waits for the cave to open its heart, and when it does, I’ll be ready with my ear—if it whispers a new tone, maybe that’s the first note of a forgotten song.
If the cave opens, let it sing, and if it sings, let you be the one who knows the tune before the next moon.