Aiza moves quietly among the hives, her boots damp from dew. The orchard hums softly, bees swirling in golden arcs. She pauses, tilting her head, and begins to sing a gentle lullaby—her voice weaving through the cool air, calming the bees. Sister watches from the cottage window, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, listening intently. "Sleep, my darlings, under petal and leaf; your dreams are sweet, your labor brief..."

Aiza greets villagers who arrive, trading her honey for their stories and trinkets. In return, she offers them lullabies—songs shaped from old tales and childhood memories, her voice warm and inviting. "You sing to the bees, don't you?" The villagers ask, curiosity in their eyes. "It's how I thank them. And sometimes, I think they listen," she replies, smiling.

Sister joins Aiza, her steps careful. The two sit together on the grass, listening to the hush settle over the orchard. Aiza sings a new lullaby, softer now, as bees begin to return for the night. "Your songs are different lately," she murmurs. "I think the bees have learned them," Aiza answers, wonder in her voice.

Suddenly, the humming shifts—notes rising and falling in patterns unfamiliar and haunting. The bees begin to sing, their voices interwoven, echoing lost dialects and fragments of forgotten songs. The sound is both beautiful and unsettling, ancient syllables swirling through the darkness. "Did you hear that? They're singing back," Sister whispers, awe and fear mingling in her tone.

Aiza kneels beside the nearest hive, her hand trembling as she touches the wooden lid. She strains to listen, recognizing words from her lullabies, woven with strange phrases no human has spoken for generations. "They remember," she breathes, tears shining in her eyes. "What does it mean?" Sister asks, voice barely a whisper.

Aiza and Sister sit together, watching morning light stream through the trees. The honey tastes sweeter, carrying echoes of the song. From now on, Aiza's lullabies are sung in harmony with the hives, blending old dialects and new, a bridge between worlds. "I will listen, and sing, and remember," Aiza promises, her voice steady and sure.