A worn-out female voice whistled through the air, its haunting melody carrying a sense of ancient power.

Nyi and Nithi, Northri and Suthri, Austri and Vestri,

Althjof, Dvalin, Nar and Nain,

Niping, Dain, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Nori, and Onar,

Ai, Mjothvitnir, Vigg and Gandalf,

Vindalf, Thrain, Thekk, and Thorin,

Thror, Vit and Lit, Nyr, and Nyrath,

Now have I told Regin and Rathsvith,

Fili, Kili, Fundin, Nali, Heptifili, and Hannar,

Sviur, Frar, Hornbori, Fræg and Loni,

Aurvang, Jari, and Eikinskjaldi.

I have told them, the list aright.

Dwarfs in Dvalin's throng, from rocks took flight.

Through wetlands they journeyed, seeking sand's embrace,

Leaving behind their homes, and a new dwelling to chase.

As the melody grew louder, the singing voice transitioned into a whisper, as if sharing a long-held secret. Kyrie strained to hear the words, the whispers. The names echoed in Kyrie's mind, resonating with a familiarity he couldn't quite place. It was as if the voice was reciting a lineage, a list of ancestors stretching back through the ages.

For all time, the forbears of Lofar shall be known,

Their names engraved in history, to us they're shown.

Then, three from the throng, mighty and gracious,

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They emerged, fateless and faceless.

No soul, no sense, no heat, nor motion,

Othin gave them soul, Hönir granted notion.

Heat bestowed by Lothur, a goodly hue they wore,

From empty shells to beings, their transformation bore.

The Great Tree, its name forever known,

Watered by white dews, its roots firmly grown.

Urth, Verthandi, and Skuld, maidens wise and fair,

Beneath the tree, their dwelling, their wisdom they share.

The air grew heavy as Kyrie listened, his heart pounding in his chest. The voice stopped. The names of the dwarfs still resonated in Kyrie's ears.

The voice spoke of a race of dwarfs. The words painted a picture of their journey, leaving the safety of their homes to seek a new dwelling in the fields of sand. As the voice recited, Kyrie could almost see them, the dwarfs forging their path through wetlands and deserts.

Laws they crafted, life and fate they bestowed,

To sons of men, their destinies they sowed.

In the tapestry of existence, their power set,

Guiding mortals' paths, their lives to be met.

Then, as if completing a sacred chant, the voice whispered the final names. The list was complete.

As if transported to another realm, Kyrie found himself standing before the Great Tree. His eyes widened in awe as he beheld its magnificence. The tree stood tall and proud, its gnarled branches reaching towards the heavens. Its bark was weathered and ancient. The leaves rustled in the breeze, their vibrant green color contrasting against the gray sky.

Fruit grew on the branches, their hues ranging from deep red to golden yellow. Kyrie could almost taste their sweetness, the scent of ripe fruit filling the air. The Great Tree seemed to emanate a sense of power as if it held the weight of the world upon its branches.

As he marveled at the tree, a deformed reptile came from behind and gripped Kyrie captive with its tail.

A bird of fiery red plumage descended from the sky. It landed gracefully on the ground, its golden eyes fixated on Kyrie. The bird seemed to possess a wisdom beyond its form, its gaze piercing through Kyrie's very soul.

For what felt like an eternity, the bird and Kyrie locked eyes. It was as if a silent conversation was taking place. And then, with a graceful movement of its wings, the bird spoke.

"Let him go!" the bird commanded, its voice strong and resolute. The reptile growled, but it retreated after letting Kyrie go.

Kyrie's heart raced as he took a step towards the bird. "What is that... that tree over there?" he asked.

"The Great Tree," the bird replied. "The Great Tree that carries the world!"

As the bird emphasized its final words, its voice grew in intensity, echoing through the depths of Kyrie's being. It was as if the very fabric of reality trembled at the sound.

Kyrie's mind swirled with questions, each one vying for attention. ‘What was that tree?’ But before he could voice his thoughts, the bird spread its wings and took flight, disappearing into the sky. Kyrie stood alone, his gaze fixed upon the tree.

With a resolute determination, Kyrie took a step towards the tree. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the rough bark. A surge of energy coursed through him as if the tree itself was awakening to his touch.

At that moment, Kyrie knew that he was connected to something greater than himself. The Great Tree held the key to his destiny, to the fate of the world.