In one of her usual bouts of impulsive journeys, a scholarly elfess had grasped onto the rumored passing of an old friend. There, Eveth perched herself on a ledge, overlooking the soft rippling sea of her home. Within her grasp was an aged present she kept from the woman—a stuffed toy taking the likeness of a feathery owl. A pained look set upon her countenance as she stared at it for a long while before panning back onto the water. A prayer was cooed, drawing a circle over her heart thereafter;
“O' Haelun, y'kae oerneh suliera.
ito suliera, iyul nae'leh illern'taynan ethere,
Iyul divhiuw ito lae'leh/hae'leh taliiynan, divcerun'ehya ito hae'leh/lae'leh hiylun.
Oerneh nae ito hileia lae/hae myumiera, ciwn'ehya uell.
O' Maln, y'kae oerneh suliera.
ito suliera iyul nae'leh illern'orran ethere,
Iyul leyun ito lae'leh/hae'leh iheiuhii, lae'leh/hae'leh ehya taliiynan feta lentera.
Oerneh nae ito Sirame lae/hae myumiera, cerun'ehya uell.
nae iyl'hiylun, tenna eth, myumierala karinte,
lae'ehya/hae'ehya Meracahe narna.
taliyna ito nor, taliiyna ito vallei, tur ito malomii.
Ahernal ito.”