On the fourth night, the wall exhaled.
Kaelen had been hired by the Order of Echoes, a clandestine sect dedicated to preserving languages that had never been spoken aloud — only dreamed. His task was to catalog the of the drowned kingdom of Ys-Quef. But the scrolls had led him here, to this breathing wall. Buu Mal -bhuumaal- nauthkarrlayynae yan...
Kaelen understood then: he had not found a language. A language had found him. And it was hungry for a mouth to speak it back into the world. On the fourth night, the wall exhaled
The phrase repeated itself in his skull, even when he tried to sleep. But the scrolls had led him here, to this breathing wall
In exchange, the figure spoke the rest of the phrase — the part that had been buried deeper in the wall:
He took up a new profession. He became a storyteller for the dying. In their final moments, he would whisper to them the one thing they had forgotten to forgive themselves for — because he could not forget anything, and they deserved at least a peaceful exit.
The figure reached into his chest and pulled out his ability to forget.