”What kind of carvings are these?” asked the bearded soldier.

The surrounding menhirs, blue speckled bushes and red-barked trees gave a pleasant hum.

“Not carvings at all, my good fellow.” Icarian beckoned and the others came closer.

“But Anechoic Writ, Stop-Sibilant when spoken. Take some of those seeds and crush them between your fingers until the oil flows, then feel the symbols and let them tell you of, their, making.”

Icarian’s heart rejoiced at their wonderment. They would be the Myrmidons of old.

He bespeaks.

“Mother, I’ve found it. Before the other boatcrews. There used to be a temple here.”


I challenge with "All 4".

Also ;) This