Elan was in his room, intently observing the small potted plants.
Unlike ordinary people, if you say that regular humans look at plants, they can only see the most external flowers, leaves, and branches, then the boy could see a kind of slowly blossoming vitality.
Perhaps it was a talent or maybe an elf trait, but the purple-eyed child could clearly sense those slight pulsations, the trickling signs of life, as well as their subtle connection with the world.
Each time the roots absorbed water, each time the leaves breathed in the air, each time the leaves grew and stretched out, they were the soft, overflowing whispers of life, a long ballad hummed in a low voice.
"♪~♪~♪~"
Singing softly in tune with the 'rhythm' he heard, Elan's melody was unexpectedly pleasant to listen to, carrying a strange charm.
Perhaps this talent to hear the rhythm of life was the reason why there were so many ballad poets and artists among the elves.
