In the city of Opaline, the sun never set; it simply changed colors, shifting from a bruised purple to a pale, ghostly gold. The city was built atop a massive, underground lake of liquid mercury that reflected every building with haunting precision. Cyrus Vane was a "Deep-Diver," a detective who didn't look for criminals, but for things that had "fallen out of reality." He lived in a house made entirely of driftwood and old telescope lenses.
One evening, a man with no shadow named Kestrel arrived at Cyrus's door. Kestrel was a Time-Stitcher, someone capable of mending small tears in the fabric of an hour. "Cyrus," Kestrel said, his voice sounding like two coins rubbing together. "The music has stopped in the Cathedral of Echoes. Not just the singing—the ability to hear melody itself is vanishing from the people of the South District. They can hear noise, but they can no longer recognize a song."
Cyrus picked up his "Aura-Glass," a monocle that allowed him to see the vibrations of sound as physical ribbons of color. When he looked toward the South District, the air was grey and static. The beauty of the city was being drained, leaving behind only the hollow shell of existence.