From the time he’d first known something more than the certainty of a stone cradle, he’d heard the music. It beat through the bones of the mountain, a challenging chant drumming destiny into his dreams. No sooner could he walk swiftly enough to evade the nursemaids than he followed it, deeper and deeper, till he came to a great hall, its walls enscribed with a tale of pride, and battle, forever unfinished.
He saw creatures unknown, and hid, till his father found him and hoisted him high, crying, “Victory!”
He lifted his own voice, laughing. The song would never end.