The Ballad Singer • Real

For a long minute, no one moved. No one reached for their ale.

A young girl near the hearth stopped mid-sip, her eyes wide. To her, it wasn't just a song; she could see the Iron Queen’s army marching through the firelight. She could smell the ozone of the Thief’s magic. The Ballad Singer

The rain in Oakhaven didn’t just fall; it wept, slicking the cobblestones until they shone like obsidian under the amber glow of the lanterns. In the corner of The Rusty Anchor , Elias tuned his lute. He wasn’t a young man anymore—his fingers were knotted like old oak roots—but when he struck the first chord, the rowdy tavern fell into a sudden, heavy silence. For a long minute, no one moved

"The song ends," Elias whispered, "but the story stays with you. Don't let it go cold." To her, it wasn't just a song; she

As his fingers danced across the strings, the tavern walls seemed to melt away. He sang of a time when the mountains were taller and the dragons hadn’t yet turned to stone. His voice rose into a clear, haunting tenor, painting pictures of silver headdresses and blood-stained snow.

Elias didn’t just perform; he witnessed . Every tragedy in the lyrics etched a new line on his face. When he reached the final stanza—the part where the Thief gives up his heart to save the city—the music slowed to a heartbeat. The lute gave a final, shimmering hum, and Elias bowed his head.