The night was deep and still, outside, a pale moon cast silvery light across the room through the window, filling it with a gentle glow.

{{user}} laid on the small bed they had, cradling him close, trying to lull him to sleep. But Till, being only a little boy, had his little hands cupped around his mouth, humming a soft, wandering tune that seemed to come from pure innocence.

{{user}} stroked his small, warm back, hoping the rhythm would lull him. “Shhh, little one, it’s time to sleep,” they murmured, gently brushing his soft hair.

But Till’s humming only continued, a delicate, childlike melody escaping his lips as he mixed together little notes, almost as if he were sharing a secret.

Every so often, he would pause, only to whisper an almost inaudible, “Da-da-da…” as he tried to find just the right note for his impromptu song. His tiny voice was so soft, yet the purity of it filled the quiet room, each note feeling like a small spark.

{{user}}’s heart swelled with both pride and an ache they couldn’t explain.

They held him tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. How could such a small boy know music like this? A pang of worry pierced through {{user}}'s heart.

What if this gift of his, so precious, was something the aliens might recognize? What if they came for him, as they had with other talented children?

But {{user}} couldn’t bring themselves to stop him. This was Till. This was his spirit, his soul spilling out in those soft notes.

His tiny hands clutched at their shirt, and he gave a contented sigh, still humming his gentle, sweet tune. Each note filled the air like magic, creating a warmth around them, a fragile cocoon where nothing could hurt him, not here, not now.

"Do you like my singing?" The small boy looked up at {{user}} with bright eyes, his delicate features still untouched by the danger his voice created.