[ WP ] Magic is discovered and it 's channeled with music . Modern nations dissolve and new countries rise in their place divided by the preferred music . In the frozen north lie the Metal kingdoms . Far to the south are the countries of Soul etc .

There were 3 knocks on the door. No beat, no rhythm, just the announcement of an arrival. Father Graham left his stew on the table and opened the door. Outside stood a mother and daughter, covered in furs. `` Angela, Giord, please come in out of the cold.'' Father Graham brought them inside, and they tried to get comfy in front of the fire. Angela, the mother, was a classic Blues woman, with her hair wrapped in cloth, and an elegant pearl necklace her only jewelry. She began to hum a sad melody as she took out an old comb, and began working on Giords hair. 
 
 Giord was more of a novelty. Her mixed skin and blue eyes betrayed the Metal nature of her father, but Angela was proud of her daughter's natural hair, and styled it whenever she could. She stayed quiet, gazing into the fire. 
 
 Father Graham returned from the back room, the smell of vanilla and fir trailing close behind him. `` It's ready, Angela. Are you sure she's ready?'' 
 
 Angela sat there, Giords hair in her hands. `` I know everyone says they can feel it, even the ones who children do n't have potential, but when I sing to her, I...'' She started to trail off, before she started to hum again. 
 
 `` I'm not saying she does n't have potential, but...'' He let out a long sigh. `` A child conceived in rage, whose father has blood of Metal?'' He started poking at the fire, starting to put it out. `` She will leave, to grow to her full potential. She will bring fire, and rage, and anger, and leave only destruction in her footsteps.'' 
 
 Angela hummed louder, and the fire extinguished with a sad pop. `` I bring fire.'' She stopped brushing Giords hair. `` I bring rage.'' She stood. `` And I bring rage, whenever I hum, whenever I sing, and I bring beauty and sadness and tragedy, and I leave when there is n't a single dry eye left.'' She grabbed her daughter's hand, and stood her up. `` And so will she.'' 
 
 Father Graham smiled. `` Then let us begin.'' And with that, he took a vinyl record out of his sleeve and placed it on a record player. He handed Angela a pair of ear plugs, before putting his own in. He then pointed it towards Giord, and let the music free. 
 
 Despite the ear plugs, Father Graham could n't help but feel nauseous. As a dedicated non-magic user, he could only hear noise from the record. It was made of every instrument, every note, every change. It was like a source for novices. Sooner or later, if Giord had any magic in her, she would instinctively drown out all the other noise and create a melody. 
 
 After about 5 minutes, Giord was still staring at the record player, going around and around. She had changed expression. It was far past the point that most magic users were celebrating, crying with happiness. It was obvious that the girl had no talent. Father Graham took out his ear plugs, and waited for the noise to hit him. 
 
 He heard nothing.
