The soft hum of the engine was the only sound inside the car, punctuated occasionally by the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers as they cleared away the light drizzle. Jazz sat in the passenger seat, his gaze drifting from the road ahead to the passing scenery outside. The rain had cast a muted, silvery veil over the world, blurring the edges of the trees and houses that lined the highway.
Inside Leeland's car, the atmosphere was a blend of anticipation and quiet determination. The leather seats, well-worn and comfortable, provided a sense of stability amidst the uncertainty that Jazz felt. The dashboard lights glowed softly, casting a gentle luminescence that contrasted with the grey outside.
As they drove, Jazz watched the droplets race across the window, creating intricate patterns before being swept away. He could see the outline of distant mountains, their peaks shrouded in mist, and the occasional flicker of headlights from oncoming cars. The road ahead seemed to stretch on endlessly.
Leeland, focused on the drive, glanced over at Jazz. "You can take a nap if you want to. We're still about an hour away from the University."
"No, I'm good," Jazz replied. "Thanks. And I'm sure I won't be able to sleep."
"His name is Professor Mackenzie," Leeland continued. "We call him the Conductor. He's the one who trained me to use my Echo."
"The Conductor is so attuned to Echos that he has an awareness of where they appear. Although he cannot pinpoint the exact location, he knows the proximity. He sent me to find the new Resonant." Leeland then pointed at Jazz with his thumb, indicating that Jazz is that Resonant.
"The Conductor, is he a Resonant too?" Jazz asked.
"Yes, he is," replied Leeland.
"The entity in the Negative Harmony's portal, what are they?" Jazz inquired.
"It differs," Leeland answered. "Mine was a dark elf."
"Your Echo, you can properly use it now?" Jazz asked.
"I can properly wield it now, but I still have a long way to go," Leeland answered as he steered the wheel. "Mine is a classical guitar," he added, glancing at Jazz with a soft smile.
"Can we die inside the portal?" Jazz inquired.
Leeland laughed and glanced at Jazz. His face then shifted to a serious one as he continued, "Of course."
As an hour slipped by, the landscape outside the car transformed from serene countryside to a bustling cityscape. Towering buildings lined the streets, their glass facades reflecting the vibrant energy of urban life. The rain that had been falling earlier finally ceased, leaving the pavement glistening under the soft glow of the sun behind the clouds. The air was filled with the sounds of honking cars and distant chatter, a stark contrast to the tranquility they had left behind.
Leeland navigated through the city, his expression focused. Soon, the car turned onto a tree-lined avenue, leading to Maplewood University. The campus unfolded before them, a picturesque blend of modern architecture and historic charm. Majestic oak and maple trees flanked the pathways, their leaves a vibrant display of autumn hues, droplets of water still clinging to their surfaces from the earlier rain.
The main building, an impressive structure of red brick with elegant arches and tall windows, stood at the heart of the campus. A sprawling green lawn spread out in front, dotted with students engaged in animated conversations, some lounging on the grass while others hurried to their next class. A grand clock tower rose above the skyline, its chimes echoing through the crisp, fresh air.
As they drove deeper into the campus, Jazz felt a sense of anticipation mingling with the unfamiliar excitement of being in a new place. The vibrant atmosphere buzzed with creativity and intellect, hinting at the potential that lay within the walls of Maplewood University.
Leeland parked the car in a spacious lot adjacent to the School of Music, Jazz felt a wave of anticipation wash over him. They stepped out into the now-clear air, the dampness from the earlier rain lingering in the atmosphere.
"This way," Leeland said, leading Jazz toward the entrance. The building loomed ahead, its impressive architecture a blend of classic design and modern elements. As they entered the building, the sounds of music filled the air, the warm notes of a piano echoing down the hall. The melodies wrapped around Jazz, momentarily making him forget the looming danger ahead.
They moved deeper into the building, Jazz and Leeland entered a grand hall filled with the rich, resonant sounds of an orchestra. The orchestra, a mix of talented students and experienced musicians, created a rich tapestry of sound that enveloped the space. The musicians were gathered on stage, immersed in an orchestral rendition of Enter Sandman, the powerful notes soaring and crashing like waves. Strings danced gracefully while brass instruments blared with intensity, blending together to create a haunting yet exhilarating atmosphere.
At the center of it all stood the Conductor, a tall man with long flowing white hair that framed his wide jaw. He wore a casual yet stylish ensemble: a fitted black T-shirt and dark jeans, topped off with a lightweight suit that hinted at his professionalism without being overly formal.
With swift, deliberate gestures, he encouraged the strings to swell, then quieted them with a gentle flick of his wrist. The rhythm flowed through him as he swayed with the music, his body embodying the pulse of the piece. The orchestra responded seamlessly, as if bound by an invisible thread connecting them to their maestro.
As the piece progressed, the intensity built, culminating in a standout solo from the original song. In that moment, Jazz's attention was drawn to a familiar face among the musicians: it was Lyra, skillfully playing the violin solo.
The music swelled with intensity, each layer of sound intertwining seamlessly, as the orchestra continued to build upon the foundation laid by the previous notes. The crescendo grew more magnificent, culminating in a breathtaking finale that resonated through the hall.
When the last chord was struck, silence hung for a brief moment before the room erupted into applause. A few audience members, scattered throughout the hall, watched the rehearsal with rapt attention, their faces alight with admiration for the talent on display. Jazz joined in, his hands coming together with a sense of exhilaration, feeling the energy of the crowd. Leeland, beside him, was equally animated, both of them swept up in the magic of the moment.
The conductor turned to the orchestra, a broad smile illuminating his face. He clapped his hands a few times, drawing the musicians' attention. "That was fantastic, everyone!" he exclaimed, his voice resonating with enthusiasm.
He scanned the faces of the musicians, a mix of talented students and seasoned professionals, as they beamed with pride from his praise. "Let's take note of the transitions; we need to tighten those a bit more next time," he continued, his tone shifting to one of constructive guidance. "And remember to bring out the dynamics in the violin solo—it's such a pivotal moment in the piece."
With a wave of his hand, he gestured for them to start wrapping up. "Alright, let's call it a day. Great work, everyone! I'll see you all at our next rehearsal." As the orchestra began to pack up their instruments and converse amongst themselves, the professor glanced over to where Jazz and Leeland stood, spotting them in the crowd. He smiled and waved his hand at Leeland, acknowledging his presence.
Leeland and Jazz approached the Conductor, who turned his attention to them. He motioned with his hand, signaling that they should move to a more private space.
"Let's talk over here," he said, leading them away from the bustling orchestra and toward a quieter corner of the hall.
The Conductor took a few glances at the surroundings, and when he was sure that none were currently looking at them, he swiftly slapped Jazz. Jazz leaned back to avoid the slap, but the Conductor's quick counter jab hit him in the stomach, leaving him momentarily breathless with a face displaying a mix of surprise and wonder, questioning why the Conductor had reacted that way.
"Not bad! Your reflexes are faster than Leeland's were when I first met him." He glanced at Leeland with a teasing smirk. "I did the same thing with him, but he wasn't quick enough to avoid the slap." Leeland rolled his eyes, a smile creeping onto his face despite the memory.
"What's your name, kid?" the Conductor continued.
"Jazz, sir," he replied, composing himself after the jab.
"A very nice name for a musician." the Conductor said, offering his hand for a shake. "Nice to meet you, I'm Professor Mackenzie."
"Nice to meet you, Professor Mackenzie," Jazz replied.
"How many days do you have to train?" the Conductor asked.
"I have twenty-two days before the portal closes," Jazz answered.
"And your echo?" the Conductor inquired.
"A piano, sir."
The Conductor's face lit up with interest. Leeland chimed in, "Like yours, Professor."
"We will start right away," the Conductor said. "But first, let's grab some lunch."
* * *
The room was spacious yet cozy, with rows of desks neatly arranged and musical posters adorning the walls. The soft hum of air conditioning provided a comfortable backdrop as the afternoon sun streamed through large windows, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floor. This was a classroom in the School of Music at Maplewood University.
Jazz and Leeland sat on chairs, having just returned from lunch, feeling slightly relaxed. Near the front of the room, standing by a large whiteboard filled with musical notations and diagrams, was Professor Mackenzie, the Conductor.
The Conductor approached the whiteboard, erasing the remnants of previous lessons. With a clean slate before him, he picked up a marker and turned to face Jazz and Leeland.
"Let's start with a question," the Conductor said, looking at Jazz with a thoughtful expression. "Aside from being musicians, what is something common among the three of us?"
Jazz turned his eyes from the whiteboard, his brow furrowed as he pondered the Conductor's question. His expression shifted from curiosity to contemplation, trying to discern the deeper connection that the Conductor was hinting at.
After a few seconds without an answer, Professor Mackenzie walked over to an upright piano in the corner of the room. "Keep your eyes on the board," he instructed, his voice calm and measured. He pressed a key on the piano, a clear, resonant note filling the room.
"Leeland, what note is this?" the Conductor asked.
"That's a C," Leeland responded confidently.
The Conductor nodded, then pressed another key, "And this one, Jazz?"
"It's a G," he answered, as confident as Leeland.
Professor Mackenzie smiled and walked back to the whiteboard. "Good. Now, let's return to the question. What is something common among the three of us?"
"Perfect pitch?" Jazz answered inquiringly.
"Correct!" the Conductor replied. "All Resonants are people with the gift of perfect pitch," he continued.
Jazz then raised his hand, indicating that he had a question.
"Yes, Jazz?" the Conductor responded.
"Are all people with perfect pitch, Resonants?" Jazz asked.
"Good question," the Conductor said. "No. But I believe that we are not randomly picked by our Echos. I believe we are chosen for a reason."
"I'm pretty sure there have been moments in your life when you've wondered about your purpose," Professor Mackenzie continued. "We have been called Jazz, called for something larger than life."
Jazz thought of the many days he had felt something was missing in his life. It was as if there was a hole in his heart, a missing piece he had been searching for, and music most of the time filled the gap.
"Do you know, Jazz, that music has been intertwined with the fabric of existence since the dawn of time?" The Conductor paused, letting the idea settle. "There are celestial beings of pure music, and their songs resonate with creation itself. But they are also warriors."
Jazz listened intently, intrigued by this new layer of understanding.
The Professor's voice grew softer. "In ancient times, musicians led the way in times of conflict. Their music guided and empowered those who followed. There were even legends of warrior-musicians whose melodies could drive away darkness."
Jazz's eyes widened with realization. "So, music and warfare have always been connected."
"Exactly," the Professor nodded. "But there is more. Music was tainted when the Morning Star, once a guardian of divine melodies, fell from grace. This fallen being, also known as the Light-Bringer, spreads discord and chaos. So there is this dual nature of music: good and evil, Echoes and Negative Harmony."
"Are you familiar with the music theory of negative harmony?" the Conductor asked Jazz as he wrote on the board.
"I've heard of it but didn't have the time to really dig about it." Jazz replied.
"The underlying concept is that every chord has a polar opposite, both in pitch and mood," Professor Mackenzie said, pointing to his illustration on the board. "By using the Circle of Fifths, we can determine the polar opposites of all tones within a particular chord and flip them around a pitch axis to create a 'negative,' much like inverting light in photography. The axis is always formed between the root note and its perfect fifth."
The Conductor wrote another example on the board and continued, "Let's use the dominant chord in the key of C. What are the notes that form a G major chord?"
"G, B, and D," Jazz answered.
"All we need to do is find the opposite pitches," the Conductor replied. Writing again on the board, he continued, "That means our negative chord is C, A♭, and F."
"An F minor chord," Jazz said.
"Correct!" Professor Mackenzie replied. "A darker chord replacing the dominant G, resolving to our root chord C."
The Conductor then put the marker down and said, "Your training will involve both mental and physical aspects. We will aim to hit our goal in two weeks so you have enough time to defeat the entity inside your Negative Harmony. First, we will focus on mental training."
"Are you getting enough sleep, Jazz?" the Conductor then asked.
"I'm afraid not," replied Jazz. "Haven't slept well since my encounter with the Echo."
"Very good!" exclaimed Professor Mackenzie. "Then, you need to sleep."
"Sleep?" replied Jazz, his eyes filled with confusion.