Faizah Silk

When Elias wakes in a cave deep in the desert, his memories are lost—until a song rises unbidden, stirring something ancient within him. The melody unlocks his past, revealing a single, burning purpose: vengeance. His wife was murdered, and the woman responsible—Seraphine, the Veil-Singer—must pay the price.  
Armed with a mysterious harp of forgotten power, Elias embarks on a journey across a world teetering on the edge of ruin. What begins as a personal mission for retribution soon unravels into something far greater. The harp’s music does not merely recall memories—it rewrites fate, bending reality itself. And Elias is not the only one who seeks to control it.  
As he gathers unlikely allies—a rogue with secrets of her own, a storyteller who knows too much, and a woman tied to the Veil’s hidden truths—Elias discovers that the harp was once used to shape the world. Its final song was left unfinished, and now, the forces that once wielded it are stirring from their slumber.  
When Elias finally confronts Seraphine, he realizes too late that their battle was only the first note in a much larger symphony. The harp’s awakening has called him to something older than gods, something that was never meant to return.  
Now, the fate of the world rests on a song yet to be written.  
As war looms and the fabric of reality begins to fray, Elias must make an impossible choice: continue his path of vengeance or wield the harp to mend the song of creation before it is lost forever.  
But fate is never so easily played.  
And some songs demand a terrible price.  
The Harp of Astra is a sweeping epic of fate, music, and redemption. It is a story of vengeance turned destiny, and a melody that will echo beyond the end of time.

The Harp of Astra

The chamber lay in eerie stillness. The Spire, once trembling with the weight of something dark and ancient, now stood in silence. The silver chains around the entity remained whole, their glow fading to a dull shimmer. 


Elias’s fingers slipped from the harp’s strings. His breath was ragged, his heart still hammering in his chest. 


But as he stood there, staring at the bound form in the depths of the Spire, the hooded figure’s words echoed in his mind. 


Joran wiped blood from his brow, his sword still gripped tightly in his hand. “Alright. We’re alive. That’s good. What now?” 


Alina was breathing hard, her gaze flicking between Elias and the figure. “What do you mean, the cost?” 


The hooded figure remained still. And then, in that hollow, resonant voice, it spoke again. 


”The Songbearer’s task is never without sacrifice.” 


The Price of The Song