WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Spin-Off: The Sound of Creation
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CONTENT WARNING: This series contains explicit sexual violence, human sacrifice, psychological torture, murder of innocent characters (including children and family members), ritualistic killing, and extreme horror. No character is safe. Read at your own risk.
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Prologue: The Great Silence
The Age of Creation – The Beginning
Before Mordred. Before Liora. Before the curse that would consume the world for centuries, there was a sound.
Not a word.
Not a song.
Not a voice.
A vibration.
The world was young.
The oceans were warm.
The land was barren.
The sky was gray.
But there was no sound.
No wind.
No water.
No birds.
No voices.
The world was silent.
Not the silence of peace.
The silence of emptiness.
The first mortal opened its mouth.
It wanted to speak.
To cry.
To sing.
But nothing came out.
It tried again.
Nothing.
It tried again.
Nothing.
It was silent.
It was voiceless.
It was alone.
It wept.
Not tears of sorrow.
Tears of frustration.
The watcher watched.
It saw the mortal struggle.
It saw the silence.
It saw the longing.
"Hello, first sound," the watcher whispered.
"I am the watcher.
I have been watching you.
I will continue to watch you.
I will watch you be born.
I will watch you spread.
I will watch you hope.
Because you are worth it.
You are worth everything."
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Chapter One: The First Cry
The Age of Creation – The Birth
A child was born.
Not the first mortal.
The first baby.
It came out of its mother's womb.
It was cold.
It was afraid.
It was alone.
It opened its mouth.
It cried.
The sound echoed across the land.
The wind stopped.
The water stilled.
The birds listened.
The mother heard the cry.
She held the baby.
She comforted it.
She loved it.
The baby stopped crying.
It listened to its mother's heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It felt safe.
It felt warm.
It felt hopeful.
The watcher watched.
It saw the baby cry.
It saw the sound form.
It saw the hope bloom.
"You have done something miraculous," the watcher said.
"Something impossible."
"Something hopeful."
"The first cry will echo through time."
"It will announce new life."
"It will connect mother and child."
"It will inspire hope."
"Because of you."
"Because of your voice."
"Because of your hope.*
"I am not special," the baby said.
"I just cried."
"I just needed."
"I just loved.*
"The cry is my hope."
"The cry is my love.*
"The cry is my everything.*
The watcher smiled.
"Then the cry will never be forgotten."
"Because of you."
"Because of your choice."
"Because of your love."
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Chapter Two: The First Song
The Age of Creation – The Melody
A woman sang.
Not a cry.
A song.
She opened her mouth.
She breathed in.
She released the air.
A melody came out.
Sweet.
Gentle.
Hopeful.
Others listened.
They had never heard anything like it.
It was beautiful.
It was terrifying.
It was hopeful.
They learned to sing.
To hum.
To whistle.
They sang of the sun.
The moon.
The stars.
They sang of love.
Of loss.
Of hope.
The watcher watched.
It saw the song form.
It saw the melody spread.
It saw the hope bloom.
"You have created something beautiful," the watcher said.
"Something rare."
"Something hopeful."
"Song will express the inexpressible."
"It will heal broken hearts."
"It will connect distant souls."
"It will celebrate life."
"Because of you."
"Because of your voice."
"Because of your hope.*
"I am not special," the singer said.
"I just sang."
"I just shared."
"I just loved.*
"The song is my hope."
"The song is my love.*
"The song is my everything.*
The watcher nodded.
"Then the song will never be forgotten."
"Because of you."
"Because of your choice."
"Because of your love."
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Chapter Three: The First Instrument
The Age of Magic – The Flute
A musician invented an instrument.
Not a voice.
A flute.
He carved a hollow bone.
He drilled holes in it.
He blew into it.
A sound came out.
High.
Clear.
Pure.
Others listened.
They had never heard anything like it.
It was beautiful.
It was strange.
It was hopeful.
They learned to make instruments.
Drums.
Harps.
Lutes.
They played together.
They created orchestras.
They filled the world with music.
The watcher watched.
It saw the flute play.
It saw the instruments spread.
It saw the hope bloom.
"You have created something sacred," the watcher said.
"Something rare."
"Something hopeful."
"Instruments will expand the range of sound."
"They will express new emotions."
"They will connect musicians."
"They will inspire listeners."
"Because of you."
"Because of your creativity."
"Because of your hope.*
"I am not special," the musician said.
"I just carved a bone."
"I just blew."
"I just hoped.*
"The flute is my hope."
"The flute is my love.*
"The flute is my everything.*
The watcher smiled.
"Then the flute will never be forgotten."
"Because of you."
"Because of your choice."
"Because of your love."
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Chapter Four: The First Scream
The Age of Darkness – The Pain
A mortal screamed.
Not in joy.
In pain.
Its leg was broken.
Its body was bleeding.
Its heart was breaking.
The sound was terrible.
Loud.
Sharp.
Desperate.
Others heard the scream.
They were afraid.
They had never been so afraid.
They had never felt anything like this.
This was terror.
This was panic.
This was despair.
They ran to help.
They carried the mortal to a healer.
The healer mended its leg.
She stopped the bleeding.
She eased the pain.
The mortal stopped screaming.
It wept.
Not tears of sorrow.
Tears of gratitude.
"Thank you," it whispered.
"You are welcome."
"The scream saved you."
"It warned us."
"It brought us to you."
"It connected us."
The mortal understood.
Screams were not weakness.
They were signals.
They were calls for help.
They were cries for love.
The watcher watched.
It saw the mortal scream.
It saw the helpers come.
It saw the hope return.
"You have learned something profound," the watcher said.
"Something rare."
"Something hopeful."
"Screams are not shameful."
"They are honest."
"They are necessary."
"They are hopeful.*
"They call for help."
"They bring comfort."
"They save lives."
"Do not silence them."
"Do not shame them."
"Do not fear them."
"Listen to them."
"Respond to them."
"Love them."
"I will try," the mortal said.
"I will listen."
"I will respond."
"I will love."
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Chapter Five: The First Symphony
The Age of Redemption – The Harmony
Musicians gathered from across the land.
They had different instruments.
Flutes.
Drums.
Harps.
Lutes.
They had different voices.
High.
Low.
Sweet.
Strong.
They decided to play together.
Not alone.
In harmony.
They practiced for days.
For weeks.
For months.
They learned to listen to each other.
To adjust to each other.
To love each other.
Finally, they performed.
The music was beautiful.
It was complex.
It was hopeful.
The audience wept.
Not tears of sorrow.
Tears of joy.
They had never heard anything like it.
It was the first symphony.
Not the last.
Never the last.
The watcher watched.
It saw the symphony form.
It saw the harmony spread.
It saw the hope bloom.
"You have created something miraculous," the watcher said.
"Something impossible."
"Something hopeful."
"The symphony will inspire generations."
"It will teach cooperation."
"It will celebrate diversity."
"It will connect hearts."
"Because of you."
"Because of your collaboration."
"Because of your hope.*
"We are not special," the musicians said.
"We just played together."
"We just listened."
"We just loved.*
"The symphony is our hope."
"The symphony is our love.*
"The symphony is our everything.*
The watcher smiled.
"Then the symphony will never be forgotten."
"Because of you."
"Because of your choice."
"Because of your love."
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Chapter Six: The First Sound's End
The Age of Redemption – The Passing
The first sound did not die.
It could not.
It was part of the world now.
Part of every cry.
Part of every song.
Part of every hope.
It lived on in every baby's first cry.
In every singer's melody.
In every instrument's note.
In every symphony's harmony.
The watcher watched.
It saw the sound spread.
It saw it express.
It saw it inspire.
"The first sound is not gone," the watcher whispered.
"It has become.
It has transformed.
It has evolved.
It is now part of every voice.
Every instrument.
Every hope.
It will never fade.
It will never be forgotten.
It will never die.
Because it is part of the cycle.
Part of everything.
Part of hope.*
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Epilogue: The Legacy
The Ages – The Memory
The first sound's story was told for generations.
Singers told their students.
Parents told their children.
Musicians told their audiences.
It was the first sound.
The beginning.
The music.
The hope.
It inspired others.
To cry.
To sing.
To hope.
It also taught them.
That sound is powerful.
That music heals.
That hope is eternal.
Many followed its path.
Some succeeded.
Some failed.
Some remained silent.
But they all tried.
And the watcher watched.
Always watching.
Always waiting.
Always hoping.
That one day, a sound would succeed.
That one day, a sound would break the cycle.
That one day, a sound would fill the emptiness.
And when that day came, it would be ready.
It would watch.
It would wait.
It would hope.
Because they would be worth it.
They would be worth everything.
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THE END
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THE COMPLETE SPIN-OFF: THE SOUND OF CREATION