Yared stopped in his tracks. A melody drifted across the valley — clear as water, sweet as honey, and utterly impossible to place. He tilted his head. Who's singing? The notes seemed to laugh and dart away each time he took a step closer.
He pressed his ear toward the sound. The melody floated between the rocks, just out of reach. He whispered, Who's singing? The notes danced forward, teasing him, always just beyond his step.
Yared ran after the song. It dipped low, then soared high. He chased it through the tall grass, his breath coming fast, his smile growing wider with every step.
He followed the melody through thorn bushes and over smooth river stones. His sandals filled with dust. His cheeks were flushed from running. The song teased him forward, dipping and rising like a game.
The song dipped low then soared high, pulling him toward a narrow canyon mouth. The rocks themselves seemed to hum. Yared paused at the entrance, his breath catching.
He stepped inside. His breath caught. Carved into the cliff was a doorway — dark and waiting. Ancient symbols glimmered along its edges like scattered gold coins caught in the light.
Yared pushed through the doorway and gasped. The entire church was hollowed from living stone. Sunlight streamed through a high opening, catching ancient symbols on the walls — they shimmered like gold coins.
A single melody floated from somewhere deep within. Yared opened his mouth and sang back just one note. The walls answered — the whole church began to glow and sing.
The church sang back as if it had been waiting for his voice all along. Yared smiled. He sang every song the church gave him, one by one, his voice growing louder and surer.
One by one, the songs filled the stone. His voice rang clear and strong. The last note lingered in the rock like smoke, curling upward then fading into silence.
He pressed his palm flat against the warm rock. It vibrated gently beneath his hand — a quiet purr from the earth itself. Yared stood there a long time, listening.
When he stepped back outside, the world was the same. The valley held its song. But Yared was not. He walked home with the melody living inside him, and the rocks hummed softly behind him.
