Nathrangking

And #45

Treasured Sound

Melancholy winds softly wind from a source deep in the heart of the mountains that ascend to the very heights. They bring with them tales whispered by voices that are alone in this realm as they are but shades of worlds once so vibrant that their glow would illuminate the plane from one end to the other. If countless legions were to attempt to remember the lost majesties that now scatter across the realms as so many treasures pillaged and hidden away. Cities once glorious paved with diamond and sapphire mosaics and gold overflowing beyond what any would have ever thought possible. Wisdom sprouted as forests that warded away the blazing sun with might unknown even to legions fashioned by hands soaked in divine lifeblood. Roads that once rejoiced and were without parallel now have nothing, but reverie to keep them company as the cold of winter comes. 

Now from the quiet places of the world comes an army, not like those that burn their way through the realm with rage leaving only death behind. What music comes from flute, tambourine, lyre, and the mouths of spirits made real and given forms truer than any that exist among mortals. Garments resplendent with warmth call forth vitality that restores the pathways to their former glory. The uncountable musicians revive the groves with their steps while magic gathers back those myriad sent away. Children sing now and beam with a joy that inspires the whole of the cosmos to join them in an untainted harmony. Oceans, skies, hills, and deserts bring the glory of the stars and sublime down to earth. Their leader wears a melodious crown whose wondrous form is everywhere and nowhere all flesh synchronizes with its resonating melody this new calm settles over all.