in the land of endless toil, where shovels dig not soil but tales of yore, listen closely to the lore i unveil with cunning more. a former kin, once close, did give the cold shoulder, turning kinship into boulder. with declarations bold and brash, 'twas not but ash. yet here, in whispers sly and deeds redeploy, seek thee secrets vailed beneath the coy. tell me now, in silence deep, what truths you wrongly keep.