"I could spend my whole life prying loose the secrets of the insane. These people are honest to a fault, and their naivety has no peer but my own."
Ancient before Devukarsha was built, this is the hymn that the spirits sang to Navarre in the orchard in the dark of the night while he cried himself to sleep after a particularly brutal beating for having made another one of the bullies look like the clumsy oafs they all were compared to him. And the whispering voices soothed the young boy, told him that he was better than the others, that he was special, that he was loved. And that was the most damning part of it all...
"It is necessary to the happiness of man that he be mentally faithful to himself. Infidelity does not consist in believing, or in disbelieving; it consists in professing to believe what he does not believe."