The sky wasn't supposed to bleed.
Not here. Not in Harmon.
The city shimmered in perfect cadence, its towers humming the soft lull of engineered peace. A symphony of safety, broadcasted twenty-four-seven through resonance towers. Children skipped across sound bridges. Drones whistled by in tune. Above all, the golden dome of the Cathedral of Sound pulsed like a heartbeat.
Harmon was a sanctuary, or so they believed. Built on the ruins of Old Echelon, it rose like a hymn from silence. Music wasn't just culture here—it was law, memory, structure. Every citizen wore personal frequency monitors, subtle devices synced to the resonance grid. Violent emotion? Logged. Mental instability? Tuned out by ambient correction tones. Harmony was literal, and every discordant frequency was considered a virus.
That morning had been beautiful. The skies clear. The orchestral weather control system dialed in for a mellow breeze. Children played beneath the floating banners of the Sound Conservatory. Families gathered in cafes, where waiters took orders in four-tone melodies. A civic performance was scheduled at noon—nothing major. Just a youth recital for charity. The kind of thing Sasha Morain never missed.
She was late, of course.
"You're chewing like a barbarian," Tevrin Kael muttered as he watched her devour her dumplings.
Sasha grinned, mouth full. "Barbarian who eats well lives long, Kael."
He didn't smile. Just stared down at the street from their perch on the fourth-tier plaza ledge. He wore his usual black coat, headphones snug over one ear. Always listening. Always measuring.
She nudged him. "Relax, your face looks like a loading screen."
"The city's main harmonic layer is out of alignment."
"It's never perfect, you know. That's why they have backups."
"No. This isn't a glitch. It's deliberate."
She paused, then took another bite. "And here I thought I was paranoid."
Tevrin didn't respond. He reached into his sleeve, adjusting a dial on his disruptor implant.
In the distance, the Cathedral of Sound loomed like a god that had once been worshipped with reverence and now was tolerated like a cold bureaucracy. At its highest point, the resonance bell shimmered with faint golden light.
Then, it rang.
No, not a ring. A note.
Three notes.
A violin.
Not part of any broadcast.
People around them paused.
Tevrin stood instantly. "Get down."
Sasha blinked. "What the hell is—"
The fourth note struck.
The air vibrated.
The resonance towers cracked.
Not a sound. Not an explosion. A folding. As if the air itself had turned inside out.
The glass of the plaza shattered. People began screaming. Not from injury—but from forgetting.
Mothers clutched children they didn't recognize. Lovers stared at each other as if they were strangers. Names dissolved mid-conversation.
Tevrin grabbed Sasha's wrist. "We have to go. Now."
But she stumbled.
Her pupils dilated. She turned toward the cathedral.
At the top of the ruins stood a man.
The Violinist.
He wore a long coat embroidered with gold-thread musical notation. Pale skin. Calm eyes. In one hand, a bow. In the other, a violin crafted from a single piece of obsidian-colored wood.
He drew it across the strings.
The note was soft. Gentle.
And the city began to die.
The silence wasn't total.
It was worse.
It was the sound of unmaking.
Every note erased a memory. Every chord unraveled years. A baker dropped his tray, staring in horror at the fire he no longer remembered lighting. A conductor on the performance stage collapsed, clutching her ears as her students forgot how to hold their instruments.
And Sasha—
She gasped.
"Kael... I feel weird. I—where are we?"
He shook her. "Sasha, look at me. You know me. You have to remember. Fight the pull."
She blinked. Tears welled.
"I had... dumplings. Didn't I?"
"Yes. Gods, yes, you did. You dropped them, remember? You said—'Barbarian who eats well lives long.' You said that."
She smiled.
And then her nose bled.
She stumbled.
And she looked up at him.
"Who are you?"
Tevrin screamed.
He activated his disruptor. A pulse of anti-resonance shattered the window beside them. He threw her over his shoulder and ran, mind racing, tears hot on his cheeks.
Behind him, more notes played.
A boy fell from a balcony with a blank face, not even screaming.
A woman clawed at her skin, whispering the names of her children over and over as they faded from her mind.
Tevrin ran.
Down the stairs.
Through the collapsing market district.
He passed a mirror.
Saw his reflection.
Then saw the Violinist behind him.
But when he turned—
No one was there.