The Singing Barrow of Drúin Vale

In the shadowed hills of Drúin Vale lies a barrow unlike any other in Comhlaidir. Known as the Singing Barrow, it is a low mound of stone and earth, yet travelers swear that from within comes a faint, mournful melody—half-hum, half-whisper—that shifts with the wind. The song cannot be traced to any opening or fissure; it seems to rise directly from the earth itself.

The first accounts date back over four centuries. Shepherds claim that those who pause near the barrow at dusk hear the melody call their names, perfectly attuned to their voice and memory. Many report seeing faint shapes moving beneath the mound, though the soil shows no signs of disturbance. Those who follow the shapes too closely are sometimes never seen again, leaving behind only scattered belongings or footprints that vanish before they reach the road.

Scholars and mages have visited the Singing Barrow, attempting to measure its properties, but instruments fail inexplicably. Compasses spin, flames bend toward the mound, and ink bleeds across pages as if reluctant to record the truth. Some believe the barrow is a tomb of a forgotten king, others claim it is a prison for a restless spirit older than the hills themselves.

Legends warn that the barrow chooses who it calls. Those of gentle heart hear only a melancholy song; the ambitious or greedy hear laughter, voices whispering secrets meant to ensnare. Few resist its pull.

Even today, travelers crossing Drúin Vale leave offerings of small stones or trinkets at the base of the mound, hoping the Singing Barrow will allow them to pass unharmed. The song continues to echo, rising and falling like a tide, a reminder that in Comhlaidir, the dead do not always sleep—and sometimes, they sing.