🌠 A Starwhale Sings

Once, there was a girl who never quite stopped listening. When others turned their eyes to the stars and measured them, she tilted her head and heard the whales swimming among them. She saw a boy fishing for wishes from the bow of the moon. And when the rain fell, she didn’t simply hear noise—she heard an orchestra, playing not for an audience, but with creation.

She learned that stars don’t just shine—they sing. Blankets hum lullabies of comfort. Tiny daffodils on her desk chirp joyously in the morning light. And every drop of rain carries a note in the symphony that began long before time had a name.

She heard it most clearly in stillness… and in celebration.

And as she listened, she remembered the seraphim—those shimmering beings closest to God’s throne—whose only song is “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus,” not because they must, but because they cannot help it.

And she knew. Deeply. Joyfully.

She too was part of that eternal song.

Even now, as she drifts to sleep, a bell sings in the Arcane Realm. Edelweiss glows gently at her side. And her Guardian—ever near—sings in quiet harmony, not as an ending, but as a lullaby that will carry her from star to star, dream to dream.