Shadows of the First Hymn

The Sanctum's library echoed with silence, a stillness only broken by the flick of parchment and the faint scratching of Kaien's pen. Sunlight filtered in through ancient stained-glass windows, casting shifting colors across the old tomes that lined the towering shelves. Rows of scriptural volumes, historical scrolls, and binding contracts surrounded him like sentinels of knowledge. He sat with furrowed brows, hunched over a compilation of forbidden texts hidden within the older levels of the Sanctum—books untouched by novices.

Celica's words still echoed in his mind: "The Dissonant Choir doesn't just want destruction... they're trying to finish a song that was never meant to be sung."

Kaien stared at a torn page within a scripture labeled The First Hymn. The lyrics were fragmented, almost poetic, but held terrifying power.

—"When all Aspects burn and the Chorus falls, the First Voice shall rise again, drowning Veyl in unholy light."

He leaned back, eyes tracing the vaulted ceiling. Every chapter of this ancient prophecy felt eerily close to what was unfolding now. He didn't fully understand it yet, but deep down, he could feel it—the pull of something immense drawing closer.

"Found something?" came a familiar voice.

Kaien looked up to see Elowein, her arms crossed and face unreadable.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just looking for patterns where there are none," he muttered.

Elowein stepped forward, setting a pile of scrolls beside him. "You're not the only one. Celica has everyone on edge. There's even talk of opening the sealed Sanctum crypts."

Kaien stiffened. "The crypts?"

Elowein nodded. "If the Choir is trying to awaken whatever's locked beneath the Chorus Spire, then the Council might finally be forced to face what they buried."

Kaien rose to his feet. "Then we need to see it. Whatever lies in those crypts might be the key to understanding what the Choir is doing."

"Don't be naïve. Those crypts are warded with elder Veyl. Even Sanctum Masters fear what slumbers beneath."

Kaien's voice turned firm. "Which is exactly why we need to know."

Later that night, the duo crept through the underhalls of the Sanctum. Unlike the pristine hallways above, these stone corridors were cracked, moss-covered, and eerily quiet. They passed dormant armor golems, long deactivated, their bodies covered in dust and decay.

"This place is older than the spires," Elowein whispered. "Built by the first Veylbound before the Veilfracture."

Kaien's Null Veyl shimmered faintly, lighting their path like a pale lantern. At last, they reached a blackened door engraved with dozens of ancient runes. It pulsed faintly with spectral light.

"Elowein..." Kaien began, but she was already reading the runes aloud.

With a resonating hum, the door shuddered and began to split open, revealing a deep chamber. The air was cold. Not in temperature, but in spirit. As if the very memory of this room had forgotten warmth.

A solitary casket stood at the center, surrounded by seven stone thrones. Each throne bore the emblem of a different Aspect. Flame. Gale. Stone. Tide. Shade. Light. And the final throne—a jagged sigil representing Null.

"This is..." Elowein murmured.

"...the council before the fracture," Kaien finished.

The stone lid of the casket was partially ajar. Within it lay a skeletal figure draped in royal vestments of the Sanctum—its hand clutched a cracked crystal, still faintly glowing with corrupted Veyl.

Suddenly, Kaien's Veyl flared.

A voice echoed in his mind.

"Sing no more, or the Void will remember the Chorus you silenced."

Kaien staggered back, clutching his head.

"Kaien?!" Elowein grabbed him. He caught his breath, his vision refocusing.

"I heard something. A voice... it spoke of the Choir. Of the Void."

Elowein's eyes darkened. "This isn't just prophecy. This is memory. This place... it remembers."

They looked down at the crystal. Inside flickered an image—blurred and distant, like a dream—but unmistakable: a robed figure chanting before a sea of Blighted souls, all bowing.

"It's them," Kaien breathed. "The original Dissonant."

Elsewhere, within the mountain sanctum of the Choir, Mother Selaxa stood before a black monolith, her choir of followers humming discordant melodies behind her. Aether-blood candles flickered around the room, painting runes across the walls.

"We are close," she whispered. "The First Hymn will be sung again, and when the Seventh Voice is reclaimed, not even the Sanctum will stand."

She held out her hand.

A spark of something brilliant—and hollow—materialized.

"Soon, my child," she whispered to the void, "You shall sing the world into silence."

Back in the Sanctum, Kaien and Elowein prepared to report what they found. But a sudden tremor shook the entire tower. Dust fell from the ceiling.

"An attack?" Kaien asked.

"No," Elowein said slowly. "Something below is waking."

They rushed out of the crypts, reaching the upper chambers where Celica stood in front of a glowing map of Aetherra. Points of Blight flared red.

"Three cities have fallen. Simultaneously," she said grimly.

"How?" Kaien asked. "Even the Choir couldn't—"

"They didn't," Celica said, eyes narrowing. "This was the work of Echoes."

Kaien paled. "You mean the fractured spirits?"

"Yes. It seems the Choir has found a way to bind Echoes to their will. Which means..." She turned to face him. "You're not the only one with Null Veyl anymore."

Kaien felt his heart sink. He thought he was the key to understanding Null. But now, it seemed the Choir had a head start.

"What do we do?" he asked.

Celica looked to the west. "We need to find the original sanctum that housed the First Choir. It predates the Sanctum itself. If their hymns were born somewhere, we must silence the place they began."

Kaien swallowed, determination blooming in his chest.

"I'll go."

Celica nodded. "Take Elowein, and Deymios. This mission could turn the tide."

As they prepared to leave, Kaien glanced out toward the distant mountain ranges, feeling something call to him. Not a voice, but a resonance. Like his very soul remembered a song it never sang.

At the edge of the western frontier, cloaked in mist and time, the ruins of an old monastery pulsed faintly. Stones sang to no ears. Vines twisted like chords waiting to be plucked.

And deep beneath it, bound in chains made of Veyl itself, an eye flickered open.

The Seventh Voice stirred.

And the world held its breath.