Kethra sat beside Lia's bed, her fingers brushing lightly against the girl's pale cheek. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of curtains as a night breeze slipped through the open balcony. An orb flickered on the bedside table, casting a wavering glow over Lia's still form.
Softly, Kethra began to hum, her voice low and warm, wrapping around the silent room like a gentle embrace.
(Sung to the tune of "Pure Imagination" from Willy Wonka, inspired by the lofi version by Sunday Vibes.)
Close your eyes, firefly,
Don't ask why the sun is slowly dying.
Night will fall, soft and deep,
But in dreams, the stars will keep you shining.
Her voice wavered slightly, but she kept singing, her thumb absently running along the back of Lia's hand. It was cold—too cold. But she refused to believe that meant anything. No mother would.
Drift away, lost in light,
Silver moons will whisper you a story.
Let the dark fade to blue,
Wrap you up in all its fleeting glory.
