Tristan of Steelbend arrives in the famous city of Hosanna with nothing but his beloved harp and a pocket full of dreams. In this beautiful Kingdom By The Sea, mysterious angelic beings known as the Seraphim rule and protect mankind from the insidio...
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All I'd hoped to gain in Hosanna--fame, influence, a life of leisure--finally became mine. My music encouraged the citizens to praise the Archangels and to seek the new promise of immortality in the Sanctum. Crowds flocked to hear me play, and demand for my work soared to the heights I'd always longed for. Recordings and concerts ruled my days. My nights, however, led me in somber reflection to the sea.
Weeks after Annabel's passing, I still wasn't convinced she was alive. Parts of her were the same, but others seemed only simulations of her former vivacious self. Once in a while, she'd say something alluring in conversation or laugh in such a contagious, familiar way that my faith in her was renewed. Regardless, I couldn't give up on her. Somewhere, somehow, I'd find what remained of her.
Every evening, when the odes of sunset fell to silence, I returned to the cove of the shattered Prodigal Star. This was where Annabel and I had shared the most joy and had been the most free. I hoped to encourage her genuine side by coming here each night and playing music with her. She loved it, and danced and recited as she had before.
On a clear night, while the stars winked in time to the pluck of my harp strings, Annabel whirled in misted light across the data streams.
"I never dreamed to be so happy," she said. "Someday, when you cross over to the Sanctum, we'll know endless joy."
I tested her with a contrary question. "If I don't choose to enter the Sanctum, will you still love me?"
Her laughter chimed through my mind. "Ofcourse. But why wouldn't want to spend forever with me in this perfect world?"
It sounded like her words, like something she'd tease me about. I took it a step further. "If I enter the Sanctum, we'll never know the pleasures of this cove again. I won't be able to collect pieces of the Star for you anymore. And I know how much you love them."
"Oh. That's true." Her lips pursed in a glimmering pout. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go and find some for me, silly!"
Bright shards washed ashore, as always, glinting upon the sand. I gathered a few and clutched them in my fingers.
"I wonder why this angelic metal is always so cold," I said. "Even when I hold these for a long while, they're like bits of ice, never warming at my touch. The wings on this crown are the same."
"It's a riddle. I also wonder how the Seraphim brought me here, into the shining realms. Maybe we can find the answer together." Her words fragmented as if many versions of her spoke at once. A small, quiet undertone echoed beneath it all. "I'm still here. I'm not lost."
The pieces of the Prodigal Star hummed, and glowed searing hot in my hand. I gasped and dropped them.
"Tristan, if you hear me, I'm trapped in this nightmare. The angels have covered me with many layers of nonsense, to try and program me into what they want. I want to come back to you. While here in the Sanctum, I've searched through the Archives, and found what might be a way. If my body is still whole, perhaps...wait. Oh no, the angels are listening. Help me." Her voice died, and my link to her was severed.
