Elias, a pale-looking boy with unkempt hair, walked down the bustling streets of Glasslight Avenue, his cracked glasses barely hanging onto the bridge of his nose.
"How gross," he muttered, leaning against a lamp post that shimmered with floating blue fireflies. The carnival was in full swing—people dressed like clowns and idiots, waving resonance speakers around and screaming in those ear-splitting voices. The thick, humid stench of humanity made Elias' stomach twist, so he clamped a hand over his nose and tried not to breathe too deeply while waiting for the parade of lunatics to pass.
"Do these bastards even bathe…" he mumbled, but a soft voice cut him off.
It belonged to a girl who looked barely four, with big puppy-like eyes and cheeks begging to be squished.
"Hey, big guy! I need your shoulders to be my cushion so I don't miss the Giggler when he comes. Don't worry, I'm rich! I can pay you!"
Elias' eyebrow twitched—at the audacity, at the confidence, or maybe at the fact that she just advertised herself as a walking money bag to a stranger. Either she was unbelievably dumb, or someone very dangerous was watching her from the shadows. The second option sounded more accurate.
Elias stared at her, weighing his options. Kidnapping her was… admittedly tempting, but probably more trouble than it was worth.
"Where are your parents?" he asked flatly, mostly just to pass time until the carnival chaos moved along.
"Oh, don't worry about them! I ran away, so they can't find me. So you won't get in trouble!" she announced proudly, pointing at herself like she deserved an award.
Elias blinked. Was this child suicidal? That sounded like the opening line of a kidnapping tutorial.
With a raised brow, he turned and started walking toward his house a few meters away. "Little girl, you need to be spanked."
Her face flushed—anger, embarrassment, or both—and she stomped after him, hitting his knees with her tiny fists. "Bully! How dare you say that to me! I'll tell Daddy when I get home! He'll—he'll—hic… waaah!"
"WAAAH!"
Elias kept walking, unfazed, as she grabbed onto his shirt—rapidly turning it into something that looked like soggy tissue. People passing by paused to stare at the ridiculous scene, but he ignored them, his brows drawn together in thought as he moved down the sidewalk with a crying child glued to his back.
In two weeks, Elias would turn fifteen—the age when you were supposed to awaken or be labeled defective. Yet, up to this moment, not a single emotion had resonated deeply enough to form even one string. It was… extremely worrying. Someone his age should have awakened long ago and become a Chordbearer.
He kept trying to deny the possibility, but the signs were painfully clear.
At this rate, he wasn't going to become a Chordbearer at all. He was destined to remain mundane. Another word for weak, pathetic… cannon fodder in this dogshit world.
His fists clenched on their own as he tried to keep the boiling frustration inside him from spilling over. The music and chaotic clangor from the central plaza only worsened things, stabbing at his skull with every pulse of sound.
"By the gods, what does it take to get some quiet around here? I hope you all die," he grumbled under his breath. Quietly, of course—he wasn't suicidal.
Sniff. Sniff.
He glanced down at the little girl still tailing him, thumb jammed in her mouth as she sucked on it, tiny tear droplets still trailing down her cheeks.
He stopped walking, already done with her nonsense.
"Don't you have anything better to do? Like fawning over that Giggler bastard every kid your age is obsessed with?"
She froze, pulled her thumb out of her mouth, and her face twisted dramatically—clearly preparing for a long, loud meltdown.
"Okay, fine. You win this time. Do whatever you want," Elias muttered, fully aware he had just been emotionally blackmailed by a toddler. Hands shoved into his pockets, he kept walking toward his house, ignoring the small sulking shadow following him.
He made it home without further incidents. The house itself was nothing special—plain, neither luxurious nor shabby. But just as he reached out to knock, the little girl shrieked behind him.
"Launder! How—how did you find me?! Go away! Shoo! Tell Daddy I'm not coming home until he admits he stole all my Giggler collections!"
Elias turned to see who she was yelling at—
but he felt it before he even looked.
The ripple of grief.
The cold, heavy pressure that only a Chordbearer gave off—one who wouldn't even need to lift a finger to kill him like a fly.
Standing there was a man, half his face hidden behind a black mask. A faint scar peeked from underneath, hinting why the mask was necessary. He was dressed entirely in black, every inch of skin covered, one gloved hand holding a black umbrella over his head. A dark, oppressive aura clung to him, the shadows around him seeming somehow… denser.
Elias blinked as he touched his cheek, staring at the wetness on his fingertips.
"I'm… crying?" he whispered, stunned.
"Miss Aurelia," the black-clothed man said, his voice warped with pain, as if something vile gnawed at his mind. "Go to sleep."
"You and Daddy will pay for this!" the little girl screamed—right before her eyes fluttered shut against her will. Before she could hit the ground, something blurred toward her at the speed of sound, lifting her into the air.
A phantom.
A huge, birdlike Echoform. Not surprising—Chordbearers who specialized in grief could raise the Echoforms they'd slain, though the reanimated ones were far weaker than the originals.
"Boy. Your name," the man asked, stepping forward with footsteps that made no sound. The grief ripple around him deepened, clawing through Elias' chest and filling it with raw emotional agony.
"Are you so bored, senior," Elias said through falling tears, a thin smile on his lips, "that you want to play around with a little boy like me?"
The man paused, as though that wasn't the response he expected.
"Such a glib tongue," Launder scoffed. He walked toward the phantom bird, which lowered its neck so he could climb onto its back. Aurelia's small body lay secured behind him.
"You and your family should leave this city," the man said as the Echoform spread its spectral wings. "Or you'll perish in the Orchestra of Desire."
He inhaled deeply, like savoring a scent.
"Death… how delicious."
His voice faded as the bird shot into the sky.
Elias sagged against the wall, heart pounding like it wanted to tear out of his ribs.
"What the hell was that? Wait—he said to leave the city. He said—" Panic shot through him. "Hey! Open up! Open the damn door!"
He hammered on the door until it flew open.
Lizzy stood there, half her face smeared with ice cream, staring at him with annoyance.
"Big brother?" she blinked, tilting her head before her eyes lit up with excitement. "Where is it? Where's the resonance flute you promised me?!"
"Not now, Lizzy! Where's Mum? Dad? Are they home?"
"Hmph." She puffed out her cheeks. "They're in the sitting room with a scientist from the Concordia Labs. They said they're waiting for you."
"That's good—perfect," Elias breathed in relief before sprinting down the hallway.
Lizzy rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
"Why's he acting weird…? Blahhh, big brother is a weirdo. My tiny brain shouldn't think too much about it."
Elias burst into the sitting room, urgency stamped across his face.
"We need to leave Avenelle now! A Mirrorth is about to open—there's going to be an Echoform invasion! Dad, Mum, we have to get out of the city right this minute!"
His father lowered his untouched cup of coffee and shook his head, disappointment written across his face. Elias' mother looked up sharply, her expression shifting to worry.
"Elias, honey… what happened to your glasses?"
Elias flushed. The memory of getting beaten like a dog over a stupid flute flickered unpleasantly in his mind.
"That's not important," he said quickly, forcing himself not to ramble. "A very powerful Chordbearer—I met him by chance—told me to leave the city. He said everyone will perish soon. I know it sounds insane, but it's true! Please, just this once, believe me. We'll pack our bags, leave for a few days—if nothing happens, we come back and treat it like a vacation!"
"Elias, that's enough," his father barked, making Elias flinch. "You want me to believe that a Chordbearer powerful enough to sense an Echoform invasion just approached you—you, of all people—and warned you out of goodwill? What are you, the chosen one?"
"But—"
"No more of this, Elias," his father said, waving him off with a tired sigh. "This is Mr. Ferborn, a scientist from Concordia Labs. He's considering taking you on as an apprentice—after you pass his evaluation. Your results from the Elementary Symphony School impressed him."
Elias frowned and turned to the man sitting leisurely on the opposite cushion. The scientist was loaded with flashy equipment strapped across his suit, and his monocle gave off a faint glint under the lights. His bald head was so polished it practically reflected the room. A neatly trimmed grey beard framed his jaw.
Elias looked back at his father, fists clenching and unclenching, his eyes stinging.
"You think I won't awaken."
His mother sighed softly, her expression pained. "Elias, the probability of awakening a resonance string is one in a thousand. It's not that you can't awaken—nature is just unfair."
"Listen, kid," Mr. Ferborn began, clearing his throat like he was launching into a well-practiced lecture. "Science Syndicates like ours can become just as powerful as any Chordbearer—with enough discipline and research. With amplifiers, harmonizers, null engines… we can weaponize frequencies the same way they do. Take for example our director, Dr Kieran Solvane. He replaced his own string with an artificial prototype. Who needs to be a Chordbearer when you can build your own strings anyway."
"But kids my age awaken all the time—I saw the news. It shouldn't be impossible. I should be able to—I should—"
"You have a disease," Mr. Ferborn cut in sharply, sitting up straighter as his eyes narrowed. "A delusion that the world owes you something. If we don't fix that, you'll die doing something stupid. Those kids you see on the news? You will only ever look up to them. They'll always be leagues above you, treating you like dirt. The gap will only grow."
Elias' jaw tightened, teeth grinding.
"Your generation is being called the Chord Generation—five times the number of awakenings compared to previous eras. And even with all that luck, you still failed. You are still pathetic," Ferborn continued, unaffected by the tension thickening the room.
"You've heard about the blessed ones, haven't you? The apex of your generation." He twirled a metallic sphere between his fingers.
"Lirae Calden, the Voice of Heaven—her songs heal allies and incinerate enemies. Cael Avon Rehn, the Resonant Prince—he manipulates multiple harmonic fields at once, a historical anomaly. Sera Myllan, the Blade of Harmony—she reflects any attack with amplified force."
"And you…" He tilted his head at Elias. "What exactly can you do?"
Ferborn chuckled lightly. "Ah, I've said too much. But you understand, don't you? You're coming with me because you have no choice. Reality is harsh, little one. This is all you get."
Elias lowered his head, taking in a shaky breath. His hands trembled.
"Elias…" his mother whispered.
"You'll come around," his father murmured, looking away.
"Something's wrong," Mr. Ferborn suddenly said. He shot to his feet, staring at a screen strapped to his wrist. His face drained of color. "The dissonance readings in this region are spiking."
The room fell completely silent. No one wanted to acknowledge what he had just said.
Elias lifted his head slowly, his expression shifting.
His father was the first to speak, voice unsteady. "You're not saying a Mirrorth is really going to—"
"By the gods, Mr. Verdan, do I look like I have water in my mouth?" Ferborn snapped. "The dissonance is rising fast—almost at crescendo. A Mirrorth is about to open in this region!"
Elias's mother stared at him, all color draining from her face. "That's impossible… A Mirrorth only opens where there's war or extreme human distress. Avenelle is far too peaceful—"
What cut her off wasn't Ferborn's voice.
It was the whispers.
They began as a faint tremor, a shiver through the floorboards. Then the entire room vibrated as the whispers rose—a chaotic, jagged chorus of sound that could drive any mundane insane.
Blood streamed from Elias's parents' ears. He didn't need to touch his own to know the same was happening to him. Ferborn paced frantically, his limbs shaking despite his attempts at composure.
From outside, Elias heard the nightmarish screams of the entire town.
The apocalypse was already here.
"EVERYONE GET TO THE UNDERGROUND BUNKERS RIGHT NOW!" his father roared.
The lights flickered… and then went off.