The Father of Music

You enter a disused urban shrine hidden beneath a courthouse, where rainwater ticks through cracked stone gutters and the air smells of wet dust, lamp oil, and old incense. At the center, a low altar holds brass word tiles beneath a broken scripture slate. A relief of a crowned musician reaches toward a harp and a reed pipe, while thin channels in the stone pulse with dim blue light. The apparatus gives a soft, expectant hum whenever anyone touches the altar.