One night, under a bleeding moon, Lbt whispered the full phrase: “Thmyl lbt salwn dryas.”

And the valley grew one more silent tree.

By the final syllable, Lbt remembered nothing — not even their own name.

However, if you’d like an inspired by the sound or feel of those words — as if they were names, places, or magical incantations — here’s a short tale: The Last Incantation of Dryas