[c=#2dba69]The Coral Chant - Part 4
The Sunken Seal[/c]

[c=#e3aaeb][i]This last notebook was protected beneath a shell plate, sealed with hardened sand.
It wasn't waiting to be read. It was waiting to be heard - by someone who had already walked the path.[/i][/c]

Thirty corals. The number the Watcher foretold, and which I finally reached, without even realizing it until a new current began blowing around me.

And that day, the flute changed in my hands. It no longer awakened anything - it no longer needed to. It called.

The Watcher spoke of one final act: not reviving, but sealing. Acknowledging that the bond between you and this marine memory is now strong enough for it to answer you directly, without passing through a dying fragment.

Here is what must be done, if you've reached this point: stand near a decorative tombstone, underwater if you can, and play this sequence, calmly:

e g a g f e d c

This isn't the same melody as the first. It's lower, more settled - the one played not to awaken, but so that a bond may be recognized.
If the breath is true, the sea itself seems to part for a moment to let you through. Your body grows lighter underwater, your sight clears in the depths, your breath lasts longer than it should.

The Watcher gained no power, that day he first played this sequence.
He had simply restored an accord between himself and the sea.

And now, you know how to sing it.
