For the Seekers of Secrets | Chapter 4 | The Abbey (Secrets I) | Dark Fantasy Ambience скачать в хорошем качестве

For the Seekers of Secrets | Chapter 4 | The Abbey (Secrets I) | Dark Fantasy Ambience

The autumn gave swiftly to winter. While the abbot and sub-prior attempted to discern the secrets of the boy, the boy attempted to learn the secrets of the abbey. It was his reluctant home, and was silent at first. But it had much to say. Now let us speak of the abbey. Far from the wheel of war lies the mountains still. It is called Abbey Redenzione Verdant, and was unlike any other abbey. The collection of stone buildings—if you saw them through the haze as the pines cleared—would seem at first impossible, and then inevitable. If you stayed you’d wonder why you ever called another place home. But this is no place to stay. An eclectic collection of stone and wood wrought by man. There was a rectory, barn, library, housing, and many small stone workshops. There was even a mine which the brothers entered not in the cold months. And search though the boy did, he never seemed to find the end of secrets in these stones. A path would lead to a graveyard ancient and sprawling on the sloping mountainside, or a hole in the foundation led to a never-before-seen basement. Despite his confinement to the safety of the buildings, he did not bore over that harsh winter. He would scamper through snow amongst the labyrinthine stone. The winding nature of the buildings was perfect for the child to lose the ever-present sub-prior, always following, clinking, and calling: Dinkle! Dinkle! Dinkle! The boy hated that name. He did not love all the buildings, however. The building that most drew the child's ire was the chapel. The brothers nursed raw hands and bite marks from there. They eventually relented their proselytization and the boy ran free while the monks prayed and lit tallow. The other structure of ill-intent was the library—Botchis, the sub-prior’s domain and workshop. It had its curiosities, books and vials and burning incense, but the sub-prior Botchis fouled it. “Calm, Dinkel!” he’d cry while poking and prodding and forcing liquid to the boy’s lips. He mumbled of spirits and devils and he seemed both scared and delighted. But the Abbey unfolded daily as the boy roamed. He learned to hear the abbey, not the chanting of the brothers at noon, but the secrets of stones. As he slunk about the lilting spiral he heard the most delightful things. The barn was where he ate. Not the animals, for he learned he loved them, but fresh rabbit that was often left behind the building with no explanation. The high rafter and sweet musty hay provided endless hours of joy. As the winter dragged on he learned to appreciate the dormitory. So many passages through the building and below the ground. In the dormitory he also discovered the small wooden chests each monk kept locked at the foot of their beds. Firm with black iron, these chests were never opened. Never. Not a single time. And the boy could not help but wonder at the treasures inside. But amongst all the buildings there were two that stood out. A dichotomy. One was silent. He found it early in the morning though it had no need to be found. It was always there, in the midst, in its quiet refrain. The kitchen. It was always warm as the monks' rations of bread proofed and rose, but never was this heat welcoming. The building seemed cold despite its bleary orange heat, and the glow of the three ovens was swallowed by early morning black. The kitchen was the domain of the abbot and the abbot alone. No help was needed, as the rations of the monks were simple: bread and salt fish. The Abbot marched through his chores from dawn to dark while the boy watched from the snow, his shadow long across the ice. The boy had snuck in to hear this silence only once. Inside, a long wooden counter scored delicately thousands of times lay dormant and dry and smelled of fish. Bags of meal were neatly stacked, and empty shelves barricaded the walls, while large racks lay dormant at the ceiling. There was a faint smell like the memory of herbs, but when the boy breathed in he smelled only yeast and fish. And then the boy saw the door. Far at the back, massive, dark black, and streaked with fine threads of gold like webs of heaven. The boy approached. And then the Abbot was there. The boy scampered and left and bolted for the nearest building for cover, but as he realized the building he approached, he halted, and the abbot grabbed him. The boy could not tell if the abbot scolded, for he stared transfixed at the final building. The noisiest. The mill. Constant did it churn and grind in a way that terrified the boy. It was the only building he had never seen inside, so he had seen little of its master. The boy loathed the chapel, hated the library, but he feared the mill. But not the mill itself. He feared the miller. ------- #ambient #backgroundmusic #sleepsounds #study #peaceful #piano #soundtrack #dark Music and story of human hand alone. Image of AI