Whispers of a Different Kind

Finn’s fingers danced across the lute strings, a melody as soft and intricate as a spider’s web spun from moonlight. He was trying to capture the feeling of that first dewdrop hitting a petal at dawn, a sound he’d heard only in his imagination. But something was off. The notes felt… sticky. Like honey clinging to his fingertips. He frowned, shaking his head. Lately, everything felt a little off.

He glanced across the workshop, where Leo was hunched over a bubbling cauldron, his brow furrowed in concentration. A faint wisp of lavender smoke curled upwards, smelling vaguely of burnt sugar and… disappointment? Leo was always experimenting, his alchemist’s mind a whirlwind of fantastical concoctions. Finn, the musician, the brother, the one who could usually find harmony in Leo’s chaotic creations, found himself increasingly distracted.

It wasn’t just the music. It was Leo.