Long ago, before corruption devoured their souls, the Sisters of Harmony were simply a sisterhood of kind-hearted nuns. Their home was a sanctuary of peace and healing, known as the Sanctum of Light. But even then, the foundation of their sacred order was tainted. Only the abbess knew the truth. Centuries earlier, when the temple was still being built, a madwoman from the city screamed through the streets, warning all who would listen. “Do not raise that place! Do not welcome the veiled sisters! They will bring ruin—one day, they will destroy this city!” At first, people laughed. But her cries grew louder, her presence more unsettling. Whispers began to spread. What if she was right? Then, one day, she vanished. Construction continued. The temple was consecrated. The sisters moved in. But the truth can't be buried. The first abbess silenced the seer herself, dragging the madwoman into the unfinished catacombs beneath the sanctuary. There, in a secret chamber sealed behind stone and shadow, she left her corpse to rot. And the secret passed from abbess to abbess like a cursed relic. Then came the music. A low, distorted rhythm from beyond the veil. Twisted, corrupted melodies echoed through the stone halls—alien, obscene, irresistible. The abbess at the time, trembling with dread, descended into the depths of the temple and unlocked the hidden door. From the darkness came a burst of laughter—unhinged, eternal—and a voice that croaked a single phrase, over and over, like a prophecy fulfilled: “It has begun. At last… it has begun.”