In the forgotten valley of , where mist curled like sleeping serpents, a young apprentice named Lbt discovered an ancient clay tablet. The elders had warned never to speak the three forbidden syllables: “Salwn Dryas.”

Dryas smiled, planted a seed in Lbt’s open palm, and whispered: “Now you are Thmyl again. The soil remembers everything.”

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

Lbt tried to run, but already forgot the color of their mother’s eyes. Then the smell of rain. Then the way home.