The reign of Queen Inmi lasted for three-hundred-and-forty-seven years across six lifespans.
There was a secret song that was only known to Queen Inmi and a private inner circle, and this was chosen as the signal of the queen’s reincarnation. When a woman who was born on the day of the death of the queen’s last incarnation began singing a particular melody she had no right to know, that was the sign that she was the queen returned.
This had been a viciously kept secret for generations. To sing, hum, or even whistle the secret song carelessly was grounds for execution.
Then one year, the song began to spread.
It was sung in every field by the tenant farmer and in every court by the royal musician, passing from mouth to ear faster than summer fire. A bloody attempt to quarantine the song ran long and vicious until blades went dull. On a grim, grey day, it was accepted the secret sign — and the queen — had been lost.
Why the song spread has been the subject of serious debate. Some say King Ohrwurm, the son of the last of Queen Inmi’s incarnations, had deliberately spread it to remove his mother’s influence from the kingdom.
Others say the whole thing was a sham. That there had never been a secret song, and the ruse was meant to keep the throne in an iron grip of some inner circle, who would be prepared to claim any poor, confused girl as the rightwise queen.
It has been five-hundred-and-seventy-six years since the reign of Queen Inmi.
Today, a young woman is singing a song she has no right to know.
It’s probably just a coincidence.
