In the heart of an ancient forest, shrouded in mist and secrets, Amun sought the enigmatic Mydiir, a Hydra whose whispers of knowledge and power echoed through the ages. The once mighty creature, now diminished by the loss of her sisters, guarded the lore of the Oduum with a solitary, mournful vigil. Mydiir's existence, woven into the fabric of legends, was a testament to the burdens of secret-keeping and the eternal scars borne by those who dare to tread too close to the unfathomable.

In the tapestry of folklore and whispered tales by the fireside, Mydiir's presence weaves through the ages, a spectral thread binding her essence to the marrow of myth and legend. Her hauntings, manifestations of her profound connection to the hidden realms of knowledge and the unseen world, have left indelible marks on the collective consciousness of humanity, embedding her into the very fabric of stories passed down through generations.

Mydiir, in her timeless wanderings, has become synonymous with the unexplainable and the mysterious, the source of the sourness in the water at the bottom of the well, a symbol of the knowledge too profound and ancient to be fathomed by the mortal mind. This well, often featured in tales as a gateway to the unknown, mirrors Mydiir’s domain—a reservoir of secrets veiled in shadow, its depths a repository of truths that are both a gift and a curse to those who dare to seek them.

Similarly, her essence echoes the enigmatic nature of lore—a creature of the in-between, embodying the fear of the unknown and the thrill of the chase. Both hunter and haunted, a being of power and mystery that defies the conventional understanding of reality. Her ability to manifest in the peripheries of human perception, to become the unease felt in deserted places, or the fleeting shadow that turns the familiar into the uncanny, positions her as a guardian of thresholds, a keeper of doors between worlds. She is a haunt in a house, a shadow that never moves, but cannot quite be perceived - perhaps through strained squint, a darkness impervious to illumination. A secret in herself.

Her presence in folklore as the sourness in the water or the essence of the Jabberwocky speaks to her role as a mediator between the seen and unseen, the known and the unknowable. Mydiir's hauntings are not mere acts of terror but invitations to look beyond the veil, to question the nature of reality and the limits of human understanding. She embodies the duality of fear and fascination that surrounds the unknown, challenging those who encounter her to confront their own perceptions and to reconsider the boundaries between myth and truth.

In the stories where she is whispered to be the bitter town water, she is the knowledge that lies hidden in the depths of the earth, in the water that sustains life yet holds the reflections of the stars—portals to other worlds. She is the riddle that has no answer, the path that leads into the heart of the dark forest, where the lines between dream and reality blur, and where the seeker must confront not only the external embodiment of fear but the shadows within themselves.

Thus, Mydiir's history of haunting places found in stories and folklore casts her not as a mere specter of fear but as an emblem of the quest for knowledge, the journey into the self, and the eternal dance between the light of understanding and the darkness of the unknown. Her legend, interwoven with the fabric of human culture, serves as a reminder that beyond the edges of the map, beyond the last word of the story, there lies a realm where she waits—a guardian of the mysteries that beckon the brave to venture further, to explore the depths of their own being and the universe beyond.

Even worse, she had the indifference of the universe and all its stars to boot. The negotiation would be dangerous indeed. Though it cost him much, from hoard to hoard, for she had many secrets to keep….why keep them together? So, Amun found her there on that day, a sideways glance in the deep wood.

"O Mydiir," Amun called into the creeping fog, his voice a solitary beacon amidst the silence. "I seek the wisdom you possess, the hidden truths of the Oduum. Share with me the path to their domains, that I might confront their majesty and unravel their enigmas."

From the shadows, a whisper responded, a sad melody of loss and time immemorial. "Why pursue what eludes your grasp, mortal? The knowledge you crave dwells beyond the reaches of your mortality."

But Amun persisted, drawn not just by the thirst for knowledge but moved by the sight of Mydiir's fading form—the once proud Hydra now bearing the grievous wounds where her sisters' heads had been, bite marks and scars etched deep into her flesh, a somber testament to their internal strife over the very secrets Amun sought. "Your suffering and the loss of your kin weighs heavy upon me, Mydiir. What quarrel could drive such division among you?"

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The air around him grew colder as Mydiir's whisper wove through the trees. "The quarrel of secrets, Amun. The belief that a lone guardian holds power in silence. But secrets are burdens, and in their keeping, we lost more than we ever guarded."

Amun's heart ached for the creature before him, her loneliness mirroring the isolation of his own quest. "Let me share this burden, Mydiir. Not to exploit, but to understand, to bring solace to the silence that has cost you so much."

Mydiir's presence, though unseen, felt closer, her sorrow palpable in the still air. "You seek not just power, but understanding. This path you choose is fraught with peril, not just to yourself but to the very fabric of existence. The secrets of the Oduum are not mere lore but the threads that bind the cosmos."

Amun knelt upon the forest floor, his voice earnest. "Then let us mend what has been torn asunder. Your sisters' sacrifice shall not be in vain. Share with me your knowledge, that I may tread wisely and with respect for the price you have paid."

For a moment, the forest held its breath, and then Mydiir's whisper enveloped him, a gentle yet tragic acceptance. "So be it, seeker of truths. But heed this warning: the path to enlightenment is not found in dominion over secrets but in the humble understanding of their weight. The quarrels that claimed my kin were born of isolation; let not the same fate befall you."

In the shadowed glen, Amun listened to the hierarchy hidden, each word a drop in the vast ocean of knowledge he sought to navigate. The scars of the Hydra, a reminder of the cost of secret-keeping, now served as a beacon for his journey—not toward the conquest of the divine but toward an understanding of the delicate balance that governed all things.

In the heart of brambles and vine, amidst the ancient secrets and the whispering leaves, Mydiir, the pygmy Hydra of a mere thousand years, fluttered around Amun like a soap bubble, her presence as delicate and elusive as the morning dew. No larger than a breath, she confided in him, her voice a melody of wisdom and sorrow, a soft whisper in his ear that carried the weight of the cosmos.

"Bound by threads unseen, we dance upon the loom,

Where the continuum's embrace, wards off impending doom.

In secrets' silent hold, a truth as vast as sky,

The weave that binds us all, beneath the watchful eye.

A drop in endless seas, a spark in night's embrace,

I've seen the tapestry, the pattern of our race.

But heed this gentle rhyme, for knowledge freely sown,

Reveals the deeper truth, the weave that binds is known."

And as the forest listened, Mydiir song went on, a haunting melody that seemed to flow from the very essence of the world around them, a lullaby of secrets and shadows:

"In the heart of the wood, where whispers dwell,

Lies a secret as old as the deep wishing well.

A Hydra young, with knowledge vast,

Sings of futures, present, and past.

From the loom of stars, where dreams are spun,

To the silent depths, untouched by sun,

Each thread entwines, in dance divine,

The fabric of existence, intricate and fine.

Hearken now, to the melody of the sphere,

A song of the cosmos, for those who dare to hear.

In secrets kept, in mysteries deep,

Lies the power to wake, the power to sleep.

So listen close, to the whispering leaves,

To the tales of the continuum that Mydiir weaves.

For in her rhyme, a truth is found,

In every echo, in every sound."

With that, Mydiir, no larger than a whisper, vanished from his sight permanently, he knew because the threat was gone and he no longer felt a fuzz in his ear. The presence a fleeting memory in the vast expanse of his mind. But her words lingered, a rhyme and a song that would guide him through the shadows of his quest, a beacon of light in the darkness of uncertainty.

*****

As lengthy the encounter mayhaps had been, Mydiir’s curse had already begun its gentle, insidious crawl upon him. Always the cost, Mydiir would make one forget all that she had shared with you, every time you encounter her, you’re left only with the curious deja-vu of the time shared. You would forget that you had ever met at all, but always the strangeness on the periphery when she returns. She only shared in one-sided trades, only she would benefit from such the change: for ever and ever. The curse would sap and one would left none the wiser: literally.

With unworldly celerity, Amun found his family dagger and unsheathed it upon his flesh. The secrets were fleeing, but the grounding of cut flesh and the running of his life’s blood would make fine memory sigil. He knew not how long she had held him under her lapsing waters, but he had finally come up for air it felt, so he must carve upon himself quickly and accurately.