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.
---
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.
