Bell was confused. The library's usual silence was replaced by a chorus, a seamless, unnerving blend of dozens of voices. Sunlight, filtering through high, leaded glass windows, illuminated motes of dust and the surreal spectacle of the bespelled scholars. Instead of murmuring over ancient tomes, they stood or sat at their tables, their bodies rigid but their throats pulsing with melody.
The song was not one of their own choosing, but a perfect, otherworldly symphony. A gaunt linguist, who had spent a lifetime in silence, now sang a pure, unwavering descant, while the chief astrologer, known for his booming voice, provided a hushed, rumbling bass. The melody, rising and falling in perfect unison, was a haunting chant, a forgotten prayer woven from pure magic. Sadly, not all had voices worthy of song. The words tumbled forth yet the tune was the only recognizable part. Harmony and dissonace seemed to be the order of the day.
Looking about, Bell could see many of their faces betraying no emotion. Eyes that had squinted at tiny script now stared blankly ahead, fixed on nothing. A half-written manuscript lay beside a scribe, the ink drying in the shape of a perfectly formed note, as his hand, holding a quill, had frozen in place. The only sound was the fractured harmony and the gentle rustle of pages stirred by the invisible force.
Bell turned to her companions, "I wonder if it is just this room or spreading?" She slapped her hands over her mouth. She spoke those words in the cadance and tone to fit the song everyone else was singing.
Dropping her spell, Erudisia frowns, and momentarily concentrates on stopping singer. “Very peculiar. I think we should find Gailby again, and find out where she heard this song. This looks like a task for the Scholars Shield! ”
" Agreed.....kids singing creepy songs has rarely heralded fun and games."
Erudisia shakes her head wryly. “Your childhood must have been awfully different to mine own.”
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As they pass through the reading room, Erudisia is unsettled and agrees with Bell’s assessment.
“If we travel further than the song will travel further too. It is an illness it seems, a lyrical perseverance as a symptom but plague nonetheless. We must talk to Gailby, but perhaps we ought to ask the Keeper to bar Candlekeep for now, until we have a greater understanding of the course this will take.”
" And where did it start?", Meredith said slowly through gritted teeth, trying to let more pleasant memories drown out the ditty.
She began moving from person to person asking when they first heard the song......
Erudisia shakes her head wryly. “Your childhood must have been awfully different to mine own.”
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As they pass through the reading room, Erudisia is unsettled and agrees with Bell’s assessment.
“If we travel further than the song will travel further too. It is an illness it seems, a lyrical perseverance as a symptom but plague nonetheless. We must talk to Gailby, but perhaps we ought to ask the Keeper to bar Candlekeep for now, until we have a greater understanding of the course this will take.”