The Hall of First Principles was older than the Sound Clan itself.
Stone pillars lined the circular chamber, each etched with shallow grooves that vibrated faintly when one spoke too loudly. For that reason, no one ever did.
Vale sat among twelve other disciples, knees folded, spine straight. In the center of the hall stood a single bronze plate suspended by thin threads.
Master Halden did not raise his voice.
"Sound is not a weapon," he said. "It is a condition."
He flicked the plate.
A dull tone spread outward—not loud, not sharp, but heavy. The air trembled briefly before settling.
"Manipulation begins with permission," Halden continued. "You do not impose sound upon the world. You allow the world to move with you."
Vale watched closely.
Most disciples focused on volume—how to amplify, sharpen, or sustain vibration. Vale did the opposite. He observed how the sound faded.
Not how long it lasted.
But where it disappeared.
"Repeat," Halden said.
Each disciple produced a tone. Some clean. Some unstable.
When it came to Vale, he exhaled and released a low hum.
It barely traveled.
Yet the bronze plate swayed.
Halden paused.
"You didn't push," the master said slowly.
Vale lowered his gaze. "I… listened first."
Halden said nothing more, but for the first time, he did not ask Vale to stop.