She tenses up, her voice hushed and her tone heavy.

“The Sharmat… the Poison Song. He puts a star into the mouth of the world to kill it. He is older than time, older than music. He is a blight that makes all things like him. He offers a false world and calls it true, and that place is resplendent and full of plenty. But it is a hollow world, a house of ashes. The Sharmat is a desire that swallows the heavens and the earth, and stills the world song.”