Grendelsong is a door
The key is hidden in the thunder, near the spine of the giant’s walk. Wash with the rain three times, and turn around twice. If your heart is fire and your tongue lightning licked you will get the key. The door itself? Finding it is another thing. A thing not so easily found, but for those who look just the right way the door is there, always waiting. Always hungry.
Grendelsong is a lamp
And this lamp was built from hearts of wild rabbits. Rabbits the size of doves, floating free against the trees. They use their ears to fly and fly fast and far, and at night you can see the glow of their hearts shine out from their pale fur. A quick shot with one bone blessed arrow and they will fall to the earth. But make certain, make sure! That you did not hit their heart, and snuff out their light in the dark of night. If the heart beats true and lights still, place it in the lamp. Follow the glow, the whispers of illumination that know just how to find that door between whispers.
Grendelsong is a worm in the bone
Ten years prior I found this in my femur, lodged there and squirming and ready to eat. But instead I used the skin like paper, and inked stories from my fellow infected. They say if you eat the worm, the door will glow. The key will sparkle, and the worlds will open wide like a giant’s mouth.