Sleep tight, Rhena.
Sleep tight, Father.
Can I tell you a tale?
It’s about the tree on that painting.
Atlas.
When animals or people grow old, they... search for him.
For Atlas gathers all stories.
Of all living beings.
In the past, Atlas wandered around the world,
To try and collect all stories but...
Now he lives trapped underground and these stories are sacrificed to him.
When the wind is right,
and when you listen closely, you can hear these stories.
So if you ever feel alone,
or if you can't sleep,
you just have to listen.
DARKER
He went...
He went into the woods.
He won't come back.
Where's father?
Not too close to the woods.
Do you hear that?
Father?
Rhena?
I can help you.
Turn to the woods.
Close your eyes.
Really close them.
Easy, easy.
Take a deep breath.
Listen.
Can you hear it?
...I told you about...
...in the distance...
...nettles, rotting leaves...
Can you hear it?
...your breath, your heartbeat...
...I was afraid...
...of every sound...
...do you hear that?
Do you hear that?
Rhena!
When a creature dies in the woods, its body is eaten.
The only thing that remains, is its heart.
For the heart belongs to Atlas.
This is what everybody knows, even the foxes and the ravens.
And Atlas devours all those tales.
He has to.
How else could he feed all those words to the trees.
Father?
Too young.
Where's my father?
All things live.
All things die.
All at once.
What perishes, grows.
What blooms, rots.
Only stories.
Stories, stories, stories, stories...
Those of fathers too.
A burden for me...
Unbearable for you.
What's that?
Mother?
Is that your father's heart?
He will be forgotten.
His tale will never be told.
I won't forget him.
What should I do?
Everything you experience, everything you feel, gets pumped straight to the heart.
But my heart has become... heavy. It's clogged with stories.
So much, it has difficulty beating.
So if you ever feel alone,
or if you can't sleep,
you just have to listen.
Sleep tight Rhena.
Sleep tight Father.