The jungle surrounding Locquine grows thick and strange. Trees here weep a pale sap that glows faintly at night, and the canopy filters sunlight into shifting patterns that seem to move with intention. The Misery River and its countless tributaries thread through this forest, their waters carrying something that has shaped everything living here for millennia.
The pixies of Locquine drink from the Misery River. They bathe in it. They sing to it. Over generations, this has changed them. They hear frequencies of Faesong that other pixies cannot—deeper notes, older harmonics, sounds that predate the imprisonment of Melera. Whether this is enlightenment or corruption depends on who you ask.