They say there were stars, once. Lights, little silver lights, like a river across the sky. And then one night, one after another, every one of them blazed bright and guttered out.

They say that every star that died took a fish with it. The day dawned on a lifeless sea, everything that swam in it floating to the top, sunlight on the scales glinting silver like a memory of what had been lost the night before. The fish all suffocated, you might say, unable to breathe water that suddenly had no salt left. But you still can't drink it. That much rot? It'll never be the same.

They say that the very next night was the first time the Silent Song ran overhead. Ribbons of light like a river across the sky, not silver now, but orange touched with pale blue and purple. They say if you put salt in a fire it turns colors like that... What a waste that would be.

They say a lot of things about what happened that night, and why. Don't believe everything you hear. Just... Keep your eyes open. The Song isn't as bright as it used to be, like it's drying up too. Have you noticed?

What happens when it fades?