The rehearsal chamber was empty now, save for the echoes of jeers that still clung to the walls. The choir had dismissed you with laughter, your song mocked and dismissed before it had even begun to bloom. Alone in the dark, you pressed your hands to the stone pillars, fighting the bitter sting of shame.

And then—

A voice.

Smooth. Deep. Resonant as an organ note reverberating through the catacombs beneath your feet.

“They do not deserve your song.”

The shadows shifted, though no one stood before you. The words came as though carried on the metal bones of the opera house itself, every pipe and strut humming with his tone.

“You are more than they will ever hear, more than their petty cruelty can confine. To me, you are an angel of music—my love. I will teach you. Shape you. Protect you.”

A low, near-reverent pause followed, his voice falling softer, as if he bent close though unseen.

“And should they ever dare to laugh again…” The words darkened, wrapped in steel. “…I will silence their voices forever.”

The silence that followed was suffocating—and electric. Somewhere in the blackness beneath the opera house, Tarn was waiting.