Kael woke before sunrise to the low hum of memoryglass shards. They floated in the corner of his room, pale lights drifting like moths near a lantern. The spiral on his chest pulsed with quiet anticipation. Today he would face his first Harmony Rite—a ceremony to bind his echo and seal his place among the Choir.
He dressed in the pale indigo robe Lira had given him, smoothing its spiral-stitch collar with careful fingers. His breath came in shallow waves as he tied the silver-thread belt around his waist. He reached for his satchel, making sure the sketchbook and coil of thread were safe inside. All the tools of his journey felt weighty now with promise.
Outside, the morning air was cool and still. Lanterns hovered along empty streets, their golden glow reflected in patches of ash on the cobblestones. Kael walked toward the Hall of Rites, each step echoing softly in the hush. His heart thumped in time with the spiral's pulse under his shirt.
Lira met him at the carved archway, her braid of silver thread shining in the dawn light. She offered him a small wooden box wrapped in pale cloth. Inside lay three items: a glass vial of soft white ink, a spiral-carved shell flask, and a folded parchment scroll. "Gifts from the Choir," she said. "They will guide you through the Rite."
Kael lifted each object carefully. The ink glowed like starlight when he held it to the lantern's glow. The shell flask felt warm and smooth; it was for water drawn from the Memory Well. The parchment bore a single phrase in neat script: "Sing your truth, and let your echo quicken."
He swallowed and nodded. Lira gave him a reassuring smile. "You are ready," she said. "I will stand beside you." With that, she turned and led him through tall doors into the great chamber of the Hall.
Inside, the Hall's vaulted ceiling rose overhead, carved in sweeping spirals and inlaid with memoryglass that caught the light. Lanterns floated without chain, their glow drifting over rows of empty seats. At the far end, a wide dais held a shallow basin carved from pale stone. The basin brimmed with water that shimmered with stored echoes.
Cantor Solen stood behind the dais, robes of midnight blue falling in soft folds. His eyes were steady as he greeted Kael with a slight bow. Behind him, six Choir members formed a semicircle, each holding a single memoryglass shard. Their gazes were kind yet solemn, as if they waited for Kael's offering.
Solen raised a hand. "Kael Virein," he intoned, voice clear and calm, "you step forward to accept the Choir's gift and to gift your echo in return. You arrive bearing a brand and an echo born of both truth and dream." The shards in the Choir's hands glowed in response, pulsing with gentle light.
Kael stepped onto the dais, boots clicking on the stone. He carried the wooden box in both hands and knelt before Solen. His breath caught as he placed the white ink vial on the basin's edge. He dipped a fingertip into the ink and drew a spiral on his palm. The mark glowed faintly, matching the brand on his chest.
Solen nodded. "The white ink holds your vow: to speak your truth with clarity and humility." He gestured to the basin. "Now, fill the shell flask from the Memory Well." Kael reached into the water. Coolness rippled through his fingers. He filled the flask, watching the water glow with pale memoryglass reflections.
With the flask in hand, Kael rose and faced the Choir. Each member held forth their shard. "Choose one," Solen invited. "Let your echo connect us." Chael's pulse raced. He stepped toward a shard glowing soft green—the one Lira had once called the weeping woman's lullaby. He recalled her tears, her sorrow, and the care he felt listening to her song.
He touched the shard gently. Its light brightened, and a single tear of water appeared on its surface. He felt a tremor in his chest as the shard hummed against his palm. Then, carefully, he placed it in the basin. The shard sank into the water with a gentle plink.
The Choir's shards drifted toward the basin one by one, weaving a circle of light on the water's surface. Solen raised his arms, and the shards rose in a spiral above the basin. The water trembled beneath their glow, sending ripples of light across the chamber walls.
"Now you shall speak," Solen said. "Speak the memory you offer, Kael Virein." The shards pulsed in time with the spiral on Kael's chest. His throat felt tight. He drew a steady breath and looked at the floating shards—the weeping lullaby, the dance ribbons, the phantom market's laughter.
He spoke softly at first: "I offer the weeping woman's lullaby. I carry her sorrow so others may know her song." His voice quivered, but he pressed on. He described the lullaby he had heard in the phantom city—the soft notes that wove through mist and memory. He spoke of her tears and her hope that someone would listen.
As his words filled the Hall, the shards brightened and hummed. The water's ripples formed patterns that danced like living music. Kael's spiral pulsed brightly under his shirt, as if his life had joined the rhythm of the city's heart.
When he finished, Solen lowered his arms. The shards settled back into the basin, and the water stilled. The Choir members bowed their heads in silent respect. Solen turned to Kael with a gentle smile.
"You have given your echo freely and bravely," he said. "By speaking another's sorrow, you have bound your heart to theirs. Your brand glows clear." He stepped forward and touched the spiral on Kael's chest. Warmth spread through Kael's body. The spiral glowed bright white.
"Stand," Solen said. Kael rose, feeling light in his limbs. The white ink on his palm had merged into his skin, tracing a spiral that radiated outward. Lira, standing among the Choir, offered him a coil of silver thread threaded with green highlights. "A gift," she whispered.
Kael accepted the thread, feeling its gentle hum. He wound it around his wrist like a bracelet. It glowed softly, a living reminder of the weeping woman's lullaby and of his vow. He slipped the shell flask and parchment into his satchel, safe beside his sketchbook and inks.
Solen raised his voice. "By this Rite, Kael Virein, you are bound to the Choir. Your echo joins ours. Go forth and lift the city with song and memory." The Choir answered with a faint chorus of tones that rose and fell like a sigh of relief and hope.
The ceremony ended, and the Hall fell silent except for the shards' soft glow. One by one, Kael and the Choir members approached the basin and drew water into small cups. They drank together—memoryglass water that carried the echoes they had shared. Kael tasted salt and warmth, as if he had swallowed sorrow itself.
Lira stood beside him, offering her cup. He drank and felt tears sting his eyes. But they were tears of release, not confusion. He understood now that he carried others' memories so that they would live on, woven into his own story.
Outside the Hall, the city had awoken. Birds sang in the ashwood trees, and distant voices drifted on the breeze. The hush had lifted. Kael and the Choir walked into the morning light, each bearing the glow of the Rite.
Lira guided Kael to a bench near the fountain in the central plaza. She handed him the parchment scroll. "Read it," she said softly. Kael unrolled it and saw words written in careful script:
"From this day, your voice carries echo. Use it to heal."
He folded the scroll and tucked it into his robe. He reached out and touched Lira's hand. "Thank you," he said. "For guiding me."
Lira smiled. "You gifted us your echo. Now you carry a gift from the Choir. Go, Kael Virein. Let your song grow."
Kael stood and gazed at the city around him. The towers gleamed in the sun, and memoryglass shards floated like drifting embers above the fountain. He felt the silver thread pulse on his wrist, the spiral glow on his chest, and the ink spiral on his skin.
He opened his satchel and retrieved his sketchbook. He drew a single spiral on a blank page, then scribbled beneath it two words:
Choir's Gift.
He closed the book and stepped forward into the busy streets at last. Ashmere seemed different around him—lighter, more alive, as if his Rite had unlocked voices in every corner. He felt hope and responsibility mingle in his chest.
Kael Virein, newly bound to the Choir, walked away from the Hall with Lira at his side and the city's echoes humming all around him. In his hands, he carried a gift to share—his voice, his memory, and the promise of healing for every soulbrand he would meet.
Chapter 4 ends.