10th of Fall, 518 AV
20th Bell
20th Bell
It was an overcast night above the Misty Peaks and the Diamond of Kalea shone like a torch in the midst of a dark forest atop the mountains. A light wind drifted through the mountain range, cooling the night air. Despite the cold, the skyglass city was bustling. On account of the disappearance of a fog that has shrouded the city for the past season, many of the denizens could be found merrymaking in the streets and in various taverns.
A lone Ghost Hawk soared over the peaks as Rigel wandered along a weathered trail on Zintia Peak, out of sight of the bright city lights; searching for a new, silent setting to be alone with his thoughts. Rigel was dressed in his full all-black outfit, the only exception being his backpack, which he had left in his room at the Solar Winds.
In the distance, round the side of the mountain, a dim, ghostly blue light began to fade into view as Rigel continued his slow ascent of the mountain trail, accentuated by the cloud cover, which darkened everything else.
Odd, Rigel thought to himself. Are the city lights not a bright yellow or orange? Suddenly struck by a sense of vigilance and intrigue, Rigel carefully continued his trek towards the growing blue light.
As he rounded the side of the mountain peak, Rigel was stunned, frozen to the spot in silent wonderment. The scene before him was like that of another world. To Rigel's amazement, he had found what he considered to be the most awe-inspring sight he had ever encountered. He stood at the edge of a forest that literally glowed with life. From the tiniest blade of grass to the tallest tree; the forest flora was illuminated in a range of blues— from the darkest of midnight blue to fluorescent cyan.
Indiscriminately bestrewn with color, Alheas Park had a rare ethereal beauty; Rigel felt apprehensive about disturbing the natural peace, the delicate beauty of this place lest he cause it to fade from existence. There was a fragile sacredness to this place that he did not fully understand. Any skeptic attitude he had towards the gods faded in that moment. For what mortal could conjure up such delicate beauty, even in his wildest dreams?
Tentatively, Rigel approached a nearby tree and sat below it, allowing himself to savour a moment in this newfound psychedelic setting. Tonight, Rigel had brought his flute with him; it had been too long since he had taken the time to play it and he silently hoped that the residents of this bewitching landscape would allow him the opportunity to grace them with a song.
As if in response to his unspoken request, Rigel heard the solemn hoot of an owl in the distance. It was all the confirmation he needed as he sat his instrument case on the ground before him and opened it in the light provided by the surrounding flora. Rigel picked up his flute and held it close to his lips. Here, amongst the oddly glowing trees and flowers, under the silent night sky, away from the city noise, Rigel felt at peace.
Softly, Rigel began to play a slow, sombre melody, saturated with long, drawn-out minor and flat notes. He was not playing any song in particular, but simply allowed the music to flow freely. As he played, the wind carried his tune out across the peaks for any who would listen.