Deep within the oceans of the Earth, there were numerous coral cities lit with luminescent orbs. A thin barrier seemed to spread in a dome around these cities, ensuring that they were disturbed by neither the underwater currents nor the great beasts that dwelled in the depths, while also relieving a great deal of the underwater pressure. These cities were populated by an ancient race that has existed within the water for countless years, yet had only recently begun to truly enter the great stage that was the world.

Through numerous trade agreements conducted with traveling merchants, the merkin had been able to obtain a communication crystal, allowing them to begin their communication and trade far beyond their normal scope. They learned of the gods, and the special abilities that one could obtain through their belief. Although the merkin had never believed in such a thing as a ‘god’, they were a race that was rather easy to persuade, so long as you could keep their attention long enough.

Thus, each underwater city possessed a temple dedicated to a different god or goddess, and there were numerous merkin that had joined these religions. The ‘grace’ of the gods began to shine beneath the waves, and the Boundless Caravan soon made its natural debut among this new race.

Now that they had access to the global trading platform, it was a given that new items would begin to appear on the market. Deep Ocean Pearls cultivated at depths of fifteen thousand kilometers, ancient heirlooms that had been resting at the bottom of the ocean for thousands of years, even the blood and bones of a Sea King were being offered for sale.

At this point, those who were aware of the merkin were still a minority. Thus, these items began to raise a stir. New types of blood, bones, and plants were all hot commodities among alchemists. Especially ancient materials that contained hints of spiritual energy, these made for the best ingredients for high level recipes.

With the new ingredients on the market, and their supplies not dwindling, it quickly became clear to those interested buyers that someone had managed to cultivate a stable underwater farm. Purchase requests changed into passing messages through the trade platform, and from there they learned of the existence of this underwater race.

Of course, those merchants who had long monopolized trade with the merkin were not happy to have their business taken away from them, but they had not been given many alternatives. The god which had been protecting them when they went out to see had long since left for Sanctum, so they were no longer able to make their regular voyages with any degree of safety. In order for them to preserve any of their business transactions at all, they could only encourage these trades over the Boundless Caravan.

Within one of these underwater cities stood a lone merkin, his body resting before a coral structure. Numerous individuals had expressed their desires to meet in person, going so far as to place materials for a transport gate on the market, along with instructions on how to assemble it and a spell to allow one to breathe underwater.

The merkin was particularly interested in the spell, hoping that there could be some way to reverse the effect and allow one of his kind to breathe the open air. For now, however, he found himself content with what his people had already achieved. After thousands of years of wandering through the dangerous trenches, carving a path with their song, they had become their own, proper civilization.

A sound like water churning could be heard from the building before the merkin, who tilted his head ever so slightly, his large eyes blinking. According to the instructions, this would be a sign of the gate being triggered. Once the occupants were through, they would need to use their own methods to enable them to breathe. The spell that had been given to the merkin was properly inscribed around the gate, but it would not protect them after they had left that coral building.

Unfortunately, the spell also prevented the merkin from entering to receive them personally, as being in its area robbed it of the very breath it provided to others. So, he waited for them outside, his webbed hands at his sides. When three little figures emerged, the merkin let out a low coo of greeting.

Blessings of the Divine be upon you, travelers of the surface song. The merkin transmitted its thoughts directly into their minds, having received practice in such communication through years of trading with various merchants.

“Surface song…?” One of the little fellows, an elderly figure with greying hair and wrinkly skin spoke in surprise. “I suppose you must mean the land… yes, well met. May I know your name, kind sir?” This little one appeared to be the leader of the others, and the one who wished to meet at this time.

The children of the water do not bear a name as those on the surface. We are us, and we know one another through our thoughts and actions. However, my position within the city is High Singer. I am told that it is similar to what you would call a ‘chief’ or ‘mayor’.

“Oh? Is that so?” The man squinted, still growing used to his body moving through the water. He wore a number of enchanted items, each one serving a different purpose to enable him to survive in such a deep city. “Very well, then… I believe I asked if you would be willing to show me around?”

The merkin nodded his head, turning and kicking lightly to propel his body upwards. Please, this way. The others are eager to meet you.

The halfling elder nodded, his body hovering off of the surface before it began to fly after the merkin leader. Behind him, his two younger assistants were able to keep pace with seemingly no effort at all.

Soon, the merkin leader led the three of them out to the edges of the city, where the thick, bubble-like barrier greeted them. This is the great city shield. It keeps us safe and allows us to remain in one place. Please be careful, as the weight of the water outside may crush you if you are not prepared.

“Your farms are not within the city?” The old man asked in an intrigued tone, looking at the barrier. However, the merkin shook his head.

Not farms. We may shape coral with our song, but we have not yet learned how to grow pearls or rear beasts. After saying that, he stepped through the barrier, his body floating in the water as he waited for the elder.

“So, they hunt for all of their materials? Seems a waste, really…” He muttered, moving to follow once again. He knew that he would be journeying to the depths of the ocean, so his body was naturally adorned with a trinket to resist its pressure. What originally started as a trip to see the other party’s farming facilities had turned into a hunting and gathering expedition. “Then, who are these others that you mentioned?”

The singers of the treasured songs. The merkin answered, turning and kicking his slippery feet. His body shot into the distance at a surprising speed, forcing the halflings to match his pace. They are the ones who listen to the depth of the song, and can find hidden treasures.

When the halfling heard that, he was further surprised. He was starting to piece together how this race operated, although their nature seemed wholly alien to him. A surprising truth, given that they had always been a part of this world.

Without anything further to ask, the elder fell silent, allowing the merkin to guide him. Although he detected numerous powerful presences, they all seemed to perfectly avoid the small party, a demonstration that the merkin was used to navigating these waters. Soon, they came upon a deep canyon within the water, from which four female merkin emerged.

Among these four, three had an almost clear blue tone to their skin, while the last was far younger, and almost sickly pale. “Is there something wrong with the child?” The elder asked, a touch of concern in his tone. They may be of a different breed, but no elder, let alone one trained in healing arts would ever wish to see a child in pain.

She is Song-blessed. Although she is only newly born, her sight into the song is deeper than any other. When the merkin introduced her, the young girl swam forward, her large eyes seeming slightly pained from the exertion.

Greetings, uncle Kris. The merkin spoke in a strained, if slightly elevated, tone. The halfling’s eyes went wide at that, as he had not revealed his name yet. Ah, I am sorry… I did not mean to pry. Please do not get angry… your song is quite deep. And your children… I could hear them before you arrived…

“It’s… fine.” The man shook his head. “You were looking forward to seeing me?”

Yes. The merkin girl nodded her head quickly, before bringing one hand up to hold her forehead. Our songs are connected. You seek the treasures to aid the blood and songs of others. Treasures you can find nowhere else in the world. That’s what my song tells me. Why I asked the High Singer to invite you.

“I am an alchemist looking for quality materials, yes.” Kris nodded in agreement, though his eyes did look towards the girl’s hands, as well as the bar of life that appeared over her head. Although she had not taken much damage, it was clearly hard on her body to be moving around like this. “Is there something that I can do to help you?”

Not you, me… my song… it tells me to help you. To give you… I cannot explain with the words you know, I am sorry. I will give you a piece of my song… It is the greatest treasure I have. It tells me that it can help you. As she said that, she extended her webbed hand, her fingers twirling in the water. Starlight seemed to shine in her black eyes, strands of energy flowing down her arms and into the tips of her fingers.

These strands of energy formed into a silver bead resting in her hand, a hand held out in offering. As Kris looked at the girl, he noticed that the pained expression she held before seemed to ease up slightly. “Is this, perhaps, a mana bead? No, it seems to hold some power of the spirit, as well… Still, if you were suffering from mana overload, that could explain some of your symptoms.”

Your words comfort me, kind sir. The girl’s voice became more gentle after creating the bead, though she still insistently held it out for him. I do not know for what purpose my song wishes to travel with you, but I feel at ease knowing that it is so.

The elder hesitated, taking the bead with a long sigh. “If your head begins to hurt again, you have to make another of these beads. That will help you relieve your symptoms… for a while, at least.” Most cases of Mana Overload within youths only became more severe as the youth gained in age. It was a rare disorder, one which had originally made itself known in Fyor long ago, but there were still known cases of it occurring in the modern day. “I’ll try to bring something back during my next visit to help you. I’ve never studied your race before, though…”

Worry not, kind sir. I am aware of how my song shall end. The girl had a gentle smile, an expression that he had not seen from her race yet. With the passing of a new season, my voice will join the chorus. When that happens, the song I leave with you should reveal its purpose. At least… that is what I feel.

The elder’s hand clenched tight around the bead, his eyes opening marginally wider. “How… how old are you, little one?”

I am but a single note compared to your powerful presence. By measuring our songs, I am four of your years.

“Four years old… and you say you will die in a season… how can you accept this so easily?” There was a slight tremble to the man’s voice, his children behind him looking at him with knowing expressions. “At your age, you should be playing and learning, just starting to experience the world.”

The girl shook her head, floating forward to rest a hand on Kris’s shoulder. My song has touched the world you know. I have heard the voice of the mountains above, and listened to the midday sky. Everywhere it touches, I learn. And the more I learn, the further it reaches. I have heard the wingbeats of the clouds as the great dragon swam through the sky, and I have felt the sorrow that comes with the end of a song.

My song may be young, but it is deeper and brighter than any you have seen. It speaks to me, telling me of truths I didn’t know, of things from before I began, and things from after my song shall fade. That is why I know what I know. But as for the purpose my song shall serve… that truth alone has not revealed itself. Isn’t it a wonderful thing, not knowing something?

“But… don’t you want to live long enough to learn?” The man asked, having a hard time understanding all of what the girl was saying. However, her smile only seemed to brighten further as she shook her head.

The wonder does not come from learning the answer, but from the simple act of wonder itself. I wonder what the truth will be, but I will never find my answer. My wonders will never cease for this alone. However, allow me to share with you a truth my song has taught me.

The act of seeking knowledge is wondrous in itself, but being deceived is the betrayal of that joy. Your mother lives, kind sir, and she is watching you every day. But, she watches not with the eyes of a mother, but those of a patient hunter. Take note of the skies on dark days, lest she sweep you away.

Kris’s eyes went wide at that, unsure how to take her words. He had buried his mother nearly a century prior. Granted, there were some oddities about the circumstances of her death, yet nothing to warrant a warning like that. He harbored some natural suspicions, but seeing the unwavering black eyes of the young girl, he had to ask. “What is she after?”

A song without a singer, she awaits her call. She lives in darkened skies and shadowed halls, plotting to replace your song with her own. From that moment, the song of Kris will twist and screech, and your echo will be extinguished. That is what my song tells me, at least.