Symphony of the damned

In the early morning, which seemed to be cloaked in a blinding storm of rainfall and thunder, Lumière adorned a black half-top hat with a white stripe along the top of its rim. After buttoning up a white shirt, and clipping suspenders to his black trousers, he had pulled a black overcoat over his shoulders and stepped out into the air. It was quiet on the hillside of Cobbler's street. The male Dwindlers that had been left out in the cold for lack of room in the monastery had huddled around fires together, bunched up as they tried to preserve warmth. Lumière sighed inwardly as he consoled his worries. At the very least, the spring had emerged, and so soon, the mornings wouldn't be so brisk. They were sure to have an easier time by the summer.

He wore his performance attire because he was going to head down to the performance hall in the middle borough. Late the night before, a courier had arrived with a letter, informing him of the hall Orchestra's intention to perform the piece that Lumière had delivered to them, and so he was invited to listen to its first rendition.

After climbing the large-flowered staircase that led to the middle borough, or rather, acted as a shortcut obscured by brush and branches, he found himself once more on Mercurial Street. While the Lower borough was like a complex maze of winding paths, backstreets, and makeshift encampments for those without homes, the middle borough consisted of one large street - Mercurial Street, with many side streets that led to the special districts. For instance, if one were to travel far up Mercurial street, and then take a certain right when prompted by a street sign, they would soon arrive within the Mercantile Belt. If one were to take a left, they would arrive in the Courtesan District. The remaining businesses, housing, and governmental buildings that did not fit such stringent areas of expertise, would be found on the long, stretching road that led up directly to the High borough.

After walking for a short time in light rainfall, he came to a large building with an ornate double door acting as its entrance. Stepping through the door, he was met with a familiarly faint scent of lavender, and of the warmth of the hall that led into the showroom. A perfectly cleaned office sat on his right, filled with neat stacks of papers and books that nearly obscured the attendant who sat calmly at her desk.

"Good morning, Ms. Lavant," Lumière spoke with a smile.

"At least this time, it really is morning. Good day, Mr. Croft." She spoke genially in return. "Is there a matter that I may assist you with today?"

Lumière shook his head slightly.

"I've been invited by Mr. Arwin to listen to the first rendition of their new performance." Lumière smiled. "Unless you're secretly a very talented musician, you might not be able to help me so much in this aspect."

Ms. Lavant raised her hand to her mouth, but it didn't help in the slightest in stifling the chuckle that quickly escaped her lips.

"Perhaps you would have been best a comedian, Mr. Croft."

Lumière looked at her with raised eyebrows but kept his genial smile without replying.

"My apologies. You are also a wonderful magician, as well as holding a sense of humour- that is what I meant to say."

Lumière chuckled slightly before bowing.

"Good day, Ms. Lavant."

She hurriedly replied.

"Good day, Mr. Croft."

Lumière quietly strolled through the show hall, his eyes wandering back and forth as if he couldn't keep focused on his thoughts. On the walls on either side of him, hundreds of years of history had been put on display. Whether to amaze or to educate, Lumière was not too interested in that which had already transpired, although sometimes history could be too enamouring for him to dismiss. Dozens of portraits lined the left side of the long hall carpeted in red, showcasing the former owners and administrators of the show hall.

At the end of the line of portraits was the Madame, who had employed Lumière several years prior. She was a very hard person to work with, mostly because she had to keep up a pretence as a woman of the middle borough. Left to run the show hall by herself, she had to portray herself as a woman who only meant business, although Lumière wondered if she often went too far.

He let out a sigh as he placed his hand on two polished circular rungs and pulled open a large ornate oak door at the end of the hall. It opened up to a wide and expansive theatre hall. There were thousands of seats spread out in a multi-floored semicircle around a large circular wooden stage. It was a sight Lumière had grown to know well, although from the opposite perspective. Once or twice a week, he would stand on that stage and face down a crowd of hundreds or thousands, depending on the time of year.

He didn't mind such a thing. Rather, he quite enjoyed it when so many people would watch him do things. It felt as if so many people cared that much. Now, he walked down the red-carpeted aisles towards the stage, where a violinist, a violist, a cellist, and a bassist sat facing him.

As he approached the edge of the stage, Lumière held a genial smile on his face.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Croft." The Cellist spoke aloud, his milky-smooth voice echoing through the empty show hall.

"Mr. Crusch, it's been a short while since we've last met. How have you been?"

Mr. Crusch, the Cellist of the quartet, had a thick white beard and thinning grey hairs on his head. Despite his age, his skin had few wrinkles and seemed to glisten under the suspending chandeliers on the show hall's diamond-patterned ceiling.

"I've been fantastic. Rather, that piece that you submitted to us… playing it has made me feel much livelier. There's so much life breathed into its notes… it has been a wonder to learn. Thank you."

Lumière shook his head with a slightly guilty smile.

"No, it's no matter to thank me for. I just happened to chance upon the sheets and thought you would be interested. I'm glad you've invited me to hear it."

'Rather… I found them in quite a sorry state. You shouldn't be thanking me for picking up what I realistically thought was rubbish.' Lumière lamented inwardly.

"Well, we could sit here conversing for the rest of the morning, but I'm sure Mr. Croft wants to get straight to listening to the piece." The Bassist chided humorously.

"You say that, Adeline, but I'm sure it's really just because you want to perform it more." Mr. Crusch retorted.

They were a bunch filled with the joys of music and laughter. As long as Lumière had worked at the show hall, the happiness of their gathering persisted. Mr. Crusch was the leader of the quartet, or at least its forefront member. There was also Adeline, who was the Bassist, about Lumière's age, and then the Violinist and Violist, Mr. And Mrs. Haugard.

Mr. and Mrs. Haugard were from the middle borough, where they owned a sizeable business now run by their son, so without the need to work, they took part in the performances as a hobby. Adeline was a student from a far-off southern country and was studying at the National University of Leiden as a music student while performing as supplementary practice. Mr. Crusch, as far as Lumière knew, had no wife, at least not one living, and so he spent most of his day performing with the quartet or caring for their practice room with the utmost love he could offer it. The music they would play- in the way that it would drone together in such a peaceful harmony, was something that Lumière treasured much, and so he would often sit outside of their practice room and listen in, and so he had come to know much about them.

'Although I suppose that makes me the world's most harmless eavesdropper.' Lumière chided inwardly.

"I just want Mr. Croft to feel as if he doesn't have to stand at attention." Adeline sighed. "Will you take a seat, Mr. Croft?"

'I finally get to be a member of the audience? That's quite humourous.'

As he took a seat in the front row, opposite but quite close to the stage, Lumière smiled softly and nodded his head towards Mr. Crusch. He nodded back in response and sat down in his seat along with the other members of the quartet.

"Well then." Mr. Crusch spoke aloud. "This is 'Lament of a Murderer', as so graciously provided by a member of the audience. We've practised it thoroughly and enjoyed every moment of the piece. Please listen close, and open your ears to the sound."

For a short moment, there was silence after Mr. Crusch finished speaking. Lumière could hear the shuffling of the quartet's clothes and their slight breathing. Then, he heard short cacophonous noises of their bows touching against the instrument's strings. Mr. Crusch tapped his foot lightly on the ground four times, and on the fourth mark, the Violist began to sound out.

It was a quite ethereal sound, of a single string being drawn out. Soon, there were the cuts of a violin chirping alongside the droning viola, and then the cellist began its lead. Alongside the bass, it filled the show hall with a regal and rich harmony. Lumière sunk back in his seat, his muscles seemingly relaxed by its bright tone. He let out a heavy breath- as if all the tension in his body was pulled away by the piece.

However, in an instant, that bright euphoria of the piece's harmony quickly wisped away. In its place was a cacophony of loud, screeching strings. The sounds echoed through the hall, along with a loud clicking sound. It was as if bugs were skittering all around him, trying to escape the horrifying piece.

'Huh?' Lumière thought, confused. 'Is this part of the piece?'

Lumière's eyes widened suddenly.

In front of him, jutting out of the seams of the stage, a slimy slithering tentacle had emerged. It was obsidian black, with thousands of waving tendrils on its surface. It started to reach out towards Lumière at a slow pace, but he had no time to pay attention to it.

'No... what is going on?'

Each of the quartet members seemed to be staring at Lumière with bloodshot eyes that were so widened and fierce that they looked as if they would pop out of their heads. Their teeth were bared and they let out harsh gurgling sounds. This image would switch out with their normal looks as they continued to perform as if it was some sort of false illusion, an error in the world's appearance.

"{..Murderer-}"

A rusty illusory voice echoed through the air, scraping against existence with its sharp tone. Countless murmurs layered over one another in the distance, seemingly trying desperately to burrow their pleas into Lumière's ears. His head pounded and his eyes felt as if they were bulging out of his head. His vision began to fade inwards, the edges of his view having darkened considerably.

He grasped at his head, standing up out of his seat as he stumbled towards the stage. The quartet stopped playing the piece, looking towards Lumière worriedly.

"Mr. Croft, are you alright?"

Adeline spoke out towards him, but her normal image had already disappeared, and so she looked at him with widened bloodshot eyes and bared teeth, making that horrific gurgling sound once more as the illusory murmurs continued around him. Suddenly, the colour in their eyes vanished, and in its place, black blood began to seep out. Amidst his pain, he realised that their eyes had all but disappeared, replaced with that pitch-black liquid that dripped to the floor in droves. That same liquid seemed to bubble and flicker on the surface of the stage, before rising towards the ceiling in thin black strands that looked like reverse rainfall.

Lumière looked up, his vision growing darker as his heart filled with intense curiosity, confusion, and despair.

The ceiling in the hall seemed to cloak itself in huge clouds of shadow, which burgeoned with thousands of bloodshot eyes that stared in unison at him. However, unlike the eyes of the crowds he was used to, they seemed to pierce past his skin with a creeping icy chill that settled on the surface of his bones. Mouths burst forth from the shadowy cloud, which besides their sharpened teeth, seemed to contain more mouths within them, which in turn contained more mouths, creating an endless looping horror of constant murmurs.

"{..Murderer-}"

"{..Murderer-}"

"{..Murderer-}"

The illusory voice continued echoing throughout the halls, and Lumière's skin seemed to turn a pale white. His limbs felt heavy- as if fatigue had immediately set at the moment he had heard the murmurs. Lumière stumbled to the floor, grasping at his face as he cried out. His lungs felt as if they had filled with liquid, leaving him unable to catch a full breath as he gasped for air.

"Mr. Croft!" Adeline called out, although her voice had already begun to fade. With an outstretched hand, she lurched forth, catching Lumière just as he fell to the ground.

With a final shuddering breath escaping his lips, Lumière succumbed to the murmurs and fell unconscious in the performer Adeline's arms.