From the crystalline spheres of the heavens it comes, an exalted music that thrums from the outermost shell down to the center on waves of invisible resonance.
It shrieks and thrums through the jungles of Jalanjhur, whispers in hollow tones across the desert sands of the Great Hazari, and murmurs drowsily in the tranquil green fields of Ensor. The Kalentoi sing it beneath the resonating vaults of cathedrals while the Koumbasi drum out its most intricate rhythms, and Sirdabi caravans pound it out with careless joy in the cadence of camels' hooves. Even the merchants of Marpagna and the natural philosophers of Omrazir mumble it under their breaths, unknown to themselves, as they count their clinking coins and sound the depths of knowledge human and divine.
This is the hum of existence.
This is the Song of Avaria.