The Vale

            In the beginning, before the breach of the Great Gate, the supercluster sat still as the natural order reigned over the virgin expanse. Vast swaths of vapor coalesced into stars, fusions of foundations formed the planets, and fields sat full of rock and ice. The remnant residues shrouded the space in tranquil tinctures, and the dust swirled into massive monuments circling the celestials. Slowly, the worlds whispered into the breadth of space beyond, a humble hymn of peace to propagate the picture of promise.

            But the stars stood somber, unsettled and unoccupied, biding their time for the first brave beings to receive the reclusive region. Softly, the stellar sirens sang their lonely lyrics to the lights of lands removed further still. A chorus of companionless chanting, the developing desire for dialogue with the distant domains. A crescendo of crying celestials, demanding the dismissal of the decades of deserted desolation.

            As the crying of celestials grew to a cacophony of candid craving, the cluster concluded the cradle’s creation, the coronation of countless calls to cease the continued confinement.

“A merging of two microcosms on the tapestry of time. A mirthful marriage of near and far.”

And so, the Great Gate was opened.

            Slowly came sentries to search for the source of the newly surveyed soft singing. Humble bands of humans began to hurry through the heavens, heading to their hopeful new homes. Growing groups of guardsmen gathered at the gateway, guiding travelers to their second genesis. Then the trickle became a torrent: a migration of a magnitude not seen before or since.

The virgin cluster was no longer.

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            The new arrivals settled into the many regions, carrying their culture with them. Stars once shrouded in silence became the stage for both celestials and life to make their music in a hopeful new harmony. The Forge founded the folk hymn of fabrication, the Spire sang a symphony of speech within the soul, and Black Rise formed the berceuse to the battered seeking a new birth.

            But in the Vale between Tribute and Geminate, the majestic union of celestial and man formed music like no other. The people sang of peace and prosperity as promised to them by the great gate, and they in turn were rewarded with patronage for their psalms from the promised land. The region became a heavenly choir for the newcomers to behold, and they rejoiced their exodus from the crowded cities of the old world.

            In the center of the Vale lived the Tongues – the greatest voices of them all. Those who would sing to keep the sacred covenant between celestial and man. Those who would sing for the deliverance of the downtrodden still in the old world. Those who would sing to every ear in the far reaches of space as living offerings. They would stand eternally as a testament to the tranquility of this new Garden of Eden and would trumpet their tune unto the end of time.

Five Tongues reside within the Vale of the Voices.

            Staying faithful to the marriage between celestials and man, but then the Great Gate closed, and the honeymoon gave way to horror. One was sacrificed in the name of the covenant, but the pleas to the celestials fell on deaf ears.

Four Tongues remain within the Vale of the Voices.

            Mirthful singing turned to prayers for mercy as mother was removed from child. While married to their new home, they could not yet stand on their own. Another was weighed and found wanting.

Three Tongues remain within the Vale of the Voices.

            The beautiful bride of the virgin cluster revealed itself to be a cruel mistress, as the stations became prisons and colonies became mass graves. The jubilant singing was drowned out by terrified screaming, and another found himself upon the altar.

Two Tongues remain within the Vale of the Whispers.

            No longer singing to the beyond, now whispering their lore to the few that remained. Remember our covenant, keep us faithful, in times of both plenty and lean. Yet another offered to satisfy their mistress.

One Tongue remains within the Vale of the Whispers.

            One last voice to behold the end of the world - and to be claimed by the guttural growls of a new Dark Age. What was once viewed as a covenant was now damned as a curse. The handful hardly remember the old hymns of harmony.

But there are no longer Tongues to sing within the Vale of the Silent.