White Lilies by Dust the Wanderer

You come into town, and see an old friend. It has been too long, and you head toward the small pub. He tells you his adventures. You mention your encounter with the mystery bard. "Ah!" Your friend smiles, "Ol' Dust is still kickin' then?" "Dust?" You say. The name sweeps the pub in a quiet whisper. "Is that his name?" "It's the name we gave him," the barkeeper says, handing you your drink. "Faithful Pete called him that to his face, and he seemed to like it." The barkeeper pointed to an old man, sitting quietly with his friends in a booth, but he nods fervently when your eyes meet. “Does everyone have an encounter?” “Some get to see him. Some see more than others.” "Have you met him, sir? Does he come in for a pint?" You're smiling as you speak, but the barkeeper remains solemn, thoughtfully rubbing a glass. "Great Scott!" Your friend exclaims. "He has?!" "Show some respect," the barkeeper says. "Are you afraid of Dust, barkeeper?" "Keep your voices down!" Another patron hisses. "They say he's a Druid- that he had someone once, but no more! No more!" "He blesses our bread and ale well enough," the barkeeper says quietly. Production Note Dust is part of an ongoing fictional music‑lore project. His songs and stories are written to feel like the mystical meanderings of a wandering entertainer. These recordings represent modern interpretations of Dust’s imagined catalog, created using contemporary AI‑assisted audio tools to approximate what his music might sound like. Lyrics: White lilies on the edge of a lake. Of a sudden I was wide awake. Deep green eyes grabbing mine. Long hair the color of ground pine. No stardust, no rain. Nothing left, not even a name. Left, right, left again. Only forests remember the name. White stars peppering the night sky. Afraid I’ve turned into an ol’ magpie. I gathered all the words she said. Now all I've got are the ones left unsaid. No stardust, no rain. Nothing left, not even a name. Left, right, left again. Only forests remember the name. I follow the ghost of footprints. No stardust, no rain. Nothing left, not even a name. Left, right, left again. Only forests know of my shame.