Nestled among mountains, the Vale of Lore echoed with faint, drifting melodies year-round. Atop the peak stood the Crystal Temple, home to Luthe, the God of Music—with flaxen curls and eyes as deep as the night sky, his fingertips could coax forth all the beautiful tunes in the world. His silver-stringed lyre was forged from stardust at the dawn of creation, each string capable of awakening the purest emotions in the human heart.
On the midsummer night of that year, Luthe sat beneath the laurel tree before the temple, tuning his lyre, when a harsh, jarring noise tore through the valley's peace. Frowning, he looked up to see a woman in a black robe emerging from the mist. Her face was hidden by a hood, and she held a wooden staff twisted with thorns; every step she took left the grass beneath her feet withered and yellow.
"Luthe, do you remember me?" Her voice rasped like rusted iron grinding against itself. "I am Mel, the Thorn Witch. Three hundred years ago, you took the most precious thing in my life from me."
Luthe rose to his feet, his silver robes billowing gently in the wind. "I recall no quarrel with you, witch. Your curse has no place in this vale."
"Curse? No—this is repayment!" Mel threw back her hood abruptly, revealing a face half-beautiful, half-ghastly: her left cheek was as delicate as spring peach blossoms, while the right was covered in dark, thorny veins. She raised her staff to the sky, and in an instant, dark clouds blotted out the moon, a purple bolt of lightning striking the silver lyre in Luthe's hands!
Crack— The most precious string of all, the Heavenly Note String, snapped. The broken string dissolved into countless tiny star fragments, scattering across every corner of the Vale of Lore. At the same moment, music across the entire continent fell silent: minstrels in taverns forgot their tunes, mothers could not hum lullabies, and even the songs of forest birds turned chaotic and discordant.
"The Heavenly Note String is shattered," Mel's figure faded slowly into the mist. "If you wish for music to return to the world, you must find all its fragments before the autumn equinox. But remember—each piece lies hidden within a soul that has 'lost music.' You must awaken them with your own power. Yet with every soul you rouse, you will lose part of your memory of music itself…"
Luthe stared at his broken lyre, his fingertips brushing the snapped string. He could feel his knowledge of harmonies slowly fading from his mind. Without a moment to spare, he tucked the lyre into a silk pouch and hurried down the mountain, following the trail of scattered starlight.
The first star fragment had fallen in Woodcarve Town at the foot of the valley. True to its name, every household made their living carving puppets—but now, not a sound could be heard there. Even the gongs and drums for puppet shows were piled in corners, thick with dust.
Luthe traced the fragment to the town square, where it hovered above a dilapidated puppet theater, glowing with faint blue light. The theater door stood ajar; he pushed it open and stepped inside to find hundreds of exquisitely carved puppets lined up on stage, all rigid and motionless, devoid of life.
"Is anyone here?" Luthe's voice echoed through the empty hall, but no one answered. Following the blue glow onto the stage, he reached out to touch the fragment when a hoarse voice barked: "Don't you dare!"
Luthe turned to see an old man with white hair and beard emerge from behind the curtains. He held a carving knife in his hand, his eyes hollow and lifeless. "That belongs to me—you cannot take it."
"Old sir, I have come to retrieve the fragment of the Heavenly Note String. Only then can music return to the world." Luthe tried to explain, but the old man suddenly hurled a puppet to the ground. "Music? I want no part of such deceit!"
The old man was named Fischer, once the most renowned puppeteer on the continent. His puppets could move with lifelike grace to music, and even kings had come to his theater to watch. But three years prior, his only daughter, little Molly, had left alone for the capital to study the finest music—and never returned. People said she had been set upon by bandits on the way, not even her body recovered. Since then, Fischer had sealed away all musical instruments and forbidden any music in Woodcarve Town.
"Music took my Molly from me—it is the most false thing in the world!" As Fischer spoke, he raised his carving knife to strike the hovering fragment. Luthe had no time to stop him; in desperation, he played a melody on his lyre's remaining three strings—a tune improvised from the sorrow in the old man's eyes, simple and unadorned, filled only with deep longing and remorse.
The strings vibrated, and music flowed forth. The carving knife clattered from Fischer's hand to the floor. Tears slowly welled in his hollow eyes, and buried memories surged back: before Molly left, she had played him a tune she composed herself—Morning in Woodcarve Town, filled with birdsong, flowing water, and the laughter they shared while carving puppets together.
"In truth… I always knew Molly did not leave because of music. I was just too selfish to let her chase her dreams…" Fischer sank to his knees, weeping uncontrollably. At that moment, the floating fragment transformed into a streak of light and drifted into Luthe's pouch. Meanwhile, Luthe felt his memory of musical forms fading further—he could barely recall how he had played that tune moments before.
Before leaving Woodcarve Town, Fischer gave Luthe his finest work: a puppet carved in little Molly's likeness. "Take her with you. Let music light up more hearts in the world, just as it once lit up Molly's."
The second fragment lay in the Redstone City to the south, once the continent's busiest commercial hub—but now a soulless dead town. Peddlers no longer called out their wares on the streets, coachmen no longer hummed as they drove, and even the sound of children's play had vanished completely.
Following the blue glow, Luthe arrived at the city's central square, where a tall stone tower rose into the sky. The fragment hovered by a window at the tower's peak. As he moved closer, a group of guards with spears surrounded him. "Stranger, this is the Lord Mayor's forbidden ground—no entry!"
Inquiring around, Luthe learned the city's ruler was a tyrant named Karon, who had banned all music in the city. Those who defied him were thrown into the tower's dungeons. Imprisoned at the tower's peak was Elena, the continent's most famous soprano—her voice was said to make stones bloom and rivers reverse course, yet Karon had branded it "sorcery that bewitches the mind."
"I must see Elena. Only she can help me retrieve the fragment." Luthe declared his identity to the guards, but they laughed aloud. "God of Music? With no music left in the world, what kind of god are you?"
Left with no choice, Luthe slipped into the tower under cover of night. The passages twisted and turned, but he followed the faint blue light to the garret cell. No lamps burned inside, but a woman sat by the window—her hair was loose, her prison robes tattered and worn, yet her grace was unmistakable.
"You have come." Elena did not turn around, yet she seemed to sense his presence. "I can feel it—you carry the echo of music, though it grows faint."
"You know why I am here?" Luthe asked in surprise.
"The moment the Heavenly Note String broke, I knew." Elena turned to face him, her eyes sightless yet clear and bright. "In truth, Karon did not ban music because he hated it. He cannot hear it at all—he was born deaf, and has only ever judged the world by people's expressions and actions. When he saw how enraptured people became at my singing, he thought I was controlling them with sorcery. So he locked me away and forbade all music."
Luthe suddenly understood. He pulled out his lyre, intending to play a tune to awaken Karon's sense of music—but as his fingers touched the strings, he found his memory of pitch growing blurred. He could barely tell high notes from low.
"Do not strain yourself." Elena gently took his hand. "Music need not be heard with the ears—it can be felt with the heart. Do you remember the 'Music of the Soul'? It is a power only the true God of Music can wield."
Music of the Soul? Luthe struggled to recall, but his mind was clouded. Then he thought of the puppet Fischer had given him—little Molly's carved face wore a gentle smile, as if encouraging him. Closing his eyes, he let go of all thoughts of complex musical theory, focusing only on the love and longing for music in his heart.
No sound was heard, yet a warm energy flowed from the lyre, spreading through the tower walls to every corner of Redstone City. Karon was in his study reviewing documents when he felt a strange stirring within him—he could "see" countless colored ripples moving through the air, weaving together into a beautiful tapestry.
"So this… is music?" Karon murmured. He hurried to the tower and personally unlocked the cell door. Elena stood and sang the long-banned Song of Redstone City to the sky—though no sound was made, all could "hear" it: a tale of the city's origins, of people's struggles and dreams, a hymn of love and hope.
The blue light flashed, and the second fragment flew into the pouch. This time, Luthe lost his memory of instrument-making—he could not even recall what his silver lyre was forged from. But watching the city come alive again, he knew it was worth every loss.
The third fragment lay at the edge of the Western Blackwood Forest, domain of the Thorn Witch Mel. No sooner had Luthe entered the forest than thick thorns wrapped around his path, alive and writhing, tightening and spreading as if to swallow him whole.
"You came after all, Luthe." Mel emerged from the thorn thickets, the thorny veins now covering her entire right face, making her look more fearsome than ever. "You have already lost so much of your memory—must you continue?"
"I will pay any price to bring music back to the world." Luthe spoke firmly. "But I must know—what happened three hundred years ago? Why do you say I took what mattered most to you?"
Mel froze, her grip on her staff trembling slightly. After a long silence, she began to speak. "Three hundred years ago, I was not a witch—I was your disciple, Melda. Back then, you were the most revered God of Music on the continent, and I was your most promising student. Together, we composed countless melodies that have lived on through the ages…"
It turned out that three centuries prior, the continent had been ravaged by disaster. Dark forces had swept across the land, filling people's hearts with fear and hatred until they could no longer feel the beauty of music. To save the world, Luthe had decided to forge a new string—the String of Hope—using half his divine power. But forging it required the sacrifice of a pure soul.
Melda had volunteered without hesitation. "Master, you are the embodiment of music. Without you, there would be no music in the world. I am only your disciple—giving my life for music is my honor." Luthe had agreed reluctantly, but at the moment the string was forged, dark forces had struck unexpectedly. Melda's soul had not fully merged with the string; instead, she had been corrupted by darkness, transformed into the Thorn Witch she was now.
"I do not blame you, master." Mel's voice was thick with tears. "I only felt bitter—why must I exist like this after giving everything? Why do you remember every tune we made together, yet forget me alone?"
A flash of lightning seemed to split through Luthe's mind, and lost memories slowly pieced themselves together. He remembered Melda's smile, the first time she had played a tune of her own creation, the hours they had spent discussing music beneath the laurel tree… But to forge the String of Hope, he had been forced to seal away all memory of her—only then could he dedicate himself fully to guarding music in the world.
"I am sorry, Melda." Tears glistened in Luthe's eyes. He pulled out his lyre, intending to play Stars and Thorns, the tune they had composed together—but found he had almost lost all memory of music entirely. He could not even remember how to pluck the strings.
Just then, the puppet in his pocket began to glow, and little Molly's figure emerged from it. "Lord Luthe, have you forgotten? Music is not about memory—it is about love!"
Love? Luthe's eyes widened in realization. Letting go of all thought of musical knowledge, he focused only on his remorse for Melda, his love for music, and his care for all living things. He gathered it all in his fingertips. No strings vibrated, no sound rang out—but a warm energy enveloped the entire Blackwood Forest. The thorns slowly receded, turning into green vines that bloomed with small white flowers.
The thorny veins on Mel's face faded away, and she regained her appearance from three hundred years ago—beautiful and gentle. The third fragment rose from her chest, merging with the other two in the pouch. The broken Heavenly Note String reappeared, shining with brilliant light.
But just as the string was about to return to the lyre, the sky turned pitch black. A surge of dark power, stronger than that of three centuries before, burst forth from the earth—it had never truly been vanquished, but had lain hidden deep in the forest, waiting for the moment the Heavenly Note String was restored to seize it and claim control of all music in the world.
The dark power took form as a massive shadow, roaring harshly as it lunged to devour the Heavenly Note String. Luthe tried to play his lyre against it, but found he had lost all memory of music—he could not even remember how to hold the instrument.
"Master, let us fight together!" Melda stepped beside him, a vine-woven string appearing in her hand. "We created the String of Hope together once—today, we will guard it together!"
Elena and Fischer arrived too. Fischer had brought all the puppets from his town, and Elena had come with the people of Redstone City. "We may not know how to play instruments, but we have love for music!" Lord Mayor Karon shouted aloud. "Let us sing from our hearts, each in our own way!"
No instruments, no sheet music—everyone closed their eyes and sent forth the emotions in their hearts: Fischer's longing, Elena's hope, Karon's remorse, the people's joy… These feelings intertwined into a powerful wave of energy that flowed into the silver lyre.
Luthe felt as if he had returned to the dawn of creation. Looking at all these music-loving souls before him, he finally understood: music had never belonged to one person alone. It was the crystallization of all beautiful emotions in the world, the bond that connected human hearts.
He reached out and touched the lyre gently. The Heavenly Note String rang out with a deafening sound—like thunder splitting through darkness, like sunlight illuminating the earth, like flowing water nourishing all life. The dark power dissolved slowly in the music, breaking into countless tiny specks of light that scattered and merged into every corner of the world.
Music returned to the continent—birds sang from the branches, streams rushed through the valleys, people danced and sang in the squares, and even stones seemed to tremble to the rhythm. Luthe watched it all, and though he had lost every memory of music he once held, he could feel its presence deep in his heart—for it lived within every soul in the world.
"Master, will you be able to learn music again?" Melda asked gently.
"Of course." Luthe smiled. "I have so many friends who love music by my side now. You will teach me, just as I once taught you."
From that day on, the Crystal Temple atop the Vale of Lore was no longer the sole home of the God of Music. Melda, Elena, Fischer, and countless music lovers came to live there, creating and playing together, letting the seeds of music take root and grow in every corner of the world. The silver lyre was placed in the center of the temple, a constant reminder to all: the power of music comes from love and hope.