Hear the call that weaves through foam and sea and spell:
Circe’s distress, a voice from a captive shell.
The breakers answer, but not all shores will meet;
They’ll scatter like comets torn by wind and sleet.
One voice will face the witch’s snare, fierce and true, While kin are torn apart by tides that pull askew.
A narrow thread, a choice that seals their fate:
To trust the island’s whisper or betray the gate.
Speak the name that breaks the curse’s iron lie, And in the danger’s heart, a spark will fly.
From split dreams and shifting stars, the path is drawn:
Only by unity can dawn’s light be won.
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