The Sound of Music

The strings of the harp are woven from the souls of the forgotten, the ones who were ripped of their beautiful breaths into a stygian suffering. The music it creates is the sounds of their screams, shouts for freedom, wishes of rebirth and sanctuary. Every pluck is agonizing pain, a reminder of treasured days and lingering nightmares.

Only the most beautiful music is bred from the most weary of spirits.