At some point in the distance past, the city now known as Sylvania had the nickname of Gods' Landing. A dozen large temples stood proudly from the simple stone houses, and double that number smaller houses of worship devoted to the lesser divines. Each had a different aesthetic. The Goddess of the Rumbling Sky's temple had vast columns constructed in a circle with no roof, where ceremonies only take place during rainy days. The God of the Distant Ocean's abode swam in an artificial salt lake, its disciples having to wade through the shallow water to attend mass. And the Goddess of the Faceless Earth's temple was deep underground in an ancient cave system at the heart of the city.

High Priestess Mellen'dari's feet padded down the steep stone stairs toward her Temple. The only source of light was a glowing crystal clutched in her palm, casting shadows that bobbed with her steps. The winding tunnel altered in size from large enough that her hand couldn't touch the ceiling to where an elf of her modest height had to crouch down to get through. Along the way, her hand slid along the walls to feel the tool-marks. The long faded marks where her ancestors had first constructed the tunnel were difficult to detect over the areas where Songweavers had cleaved deep, smooth furrows into the rock during their excavation of the tunnel.

During her decent, the light from the crystal began to fade. She cleared her throat. When she started humming, the crystal flickered slightly. It was a song from her youth, a simple nursery rhyme most children in Sylvania are taught. But like most songs, it had a dual purpose. The playful ditty about the sun fleeing before coming back to shine brighter the next day suffused the crystal in her hand, making in glow in turn.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, it expanded into a great chamber: the Temple of the Earth.  It was long, stretching a half kilometre into the distance. The sides were filled with pews, leaving only a carpeted pathway in the middle with which to walk towards the front. There, surrounding the altar, one of the Temple's daily rituals was underway. A chorus of Songweavers belted out a hymnal, one told to them so long ago. Crystals similar to the one she held sat in recessed alcoves. These were gargantuan in comparison, as tall as she was and beaming down the same white, ethereal light. As the Song continued, the crystals' glow intensified. She clipped her little hand-sized chunk of sopranite to her necklace, and slipped it underneath her vestments.

A thin, jittery man emerged from one of the alcoves. He was...she'd never remembered his name. Something with an ae at the end, she mused. But Mellen'dari rarely had instance to address her Priests by name.

"High Priestess!" he gasped, then prostrated himself. She motioned for him to rise, impatient with his expression of subservience. She stalked forward towards the chorus, the Priest trailing behind He was a meek, powerless man, but he kept the books well enough.

At points along the wall, large statues pushed out from the cut rock. They were seamless, grow by talented Songweavers and each taking a different form of the Earth Goddess. Some where strong, others meek. Some were large, others diminutive. None had faces, and all wielded some manner of carved sopranite object: a book, a pen, a sword, a torch. She gave a slight bow to each of them as she passed. Her subordinate bowed lower, as was his place to do so.

"How faired the Council?"

Remembering how she'd spent her whole day suddenly made her very tired. She rubbed her forehead, a headache manifesting on its own. "They are a rabble of bickering children. Trying to form consensus is impossible! The High Priest of the Distant Ocean calls for calm. The High Priestesses of Exchange and of the Hearts of All want to negotiate with the barbarians! The only one with their head screwed on correctly is the High Priestess of Shadows, but she sees the Florans as some kind of Agent of the Nefarious Sun and wants to sacrifice them to appease their hungry god." 

She walked in silence for a while, gathering her thoughts. When she reached the Bowl of Cleansing Waters, she paused. Mellen'dari splashed water from the pedestal. It was sanctified waters from an underground stream. Droplets fell back into the bowl, made from hollowing out a geode. The colourful sides reflected the artificial light in a pleasant way. She looked up toward the great sopranite illumination sources, pondering.

"We may have a solution at our finger tips," she mused. The choir reached a crescendo, the words turning the crystals on the walls of the temple into pulsing objects of power. The High Priestess could feel the Song flow through her, filling her mind with the devotion to the Goddess. The chanting created a sympathetic effect. The Songweaver's words strengthened the crystal's power, and the crystal's power strengthened the longevity of his powers long after he finished singing. The congregation was asway, chanting the glory of the Goddess of the Faceless Earth and praising everything under her domain. The High Priestess had to but watch and enjoy the complete devotion of faith on display...it was intoxicating.

"High Priestess...what are we to do?" her subordinate whined. His faith was not nearly as strong as hers. Hers was absolute. She was devoted...and devotion bent to Zeal so easily. One moment she was filled with the peaceful, benevolent glow. The next, her spirit had calcified. Determination flooded through her. She plucked the shard of sopranite from around her neck, holding it in her hand like it was the leash of some great and terrible beast.

"We're going to use the gifts that our Goddess has provided. And if the others won't help us build a united front..." Mellen'dari turned the crystal over in her grasp, feeling the contained power pulse against her fingers. "We will forge it ourselves."

***

Sopranite is a material critical to Sylvan society. In its raw form, they are a dull, white crystal that looks not unlike gypsum. It can form anything between small nodules forms long spear-like spindles.

Along with being capable of magical feats, the Songs of the Songweavers can have numerous emotional effects on the listener. You can keep prisoners pacified by a relaxing tune, or bring the heart of a warrior out in even the least courageous soldier. The duration of these effects is limited to the voice of the Songweaver. Not so when using sopranite. Once the crystals are charged with the power of a Song of sufficient power, they will steadily hum and release it over a much longer time. This sustained effect is of slightly less power, but the enhanced duration in eminently useful.

Non-magical sounds can be recorded as well, if at sufficient volume. The crystal's construction, size, and cut can determine the length and clarity of possible recordings.

Most are extracted from deep caves adjoining the Temple of the Earth in Sylvania, leading many to theorize that Songweaving had been used in the ancient days before the discovery of high magics. Whatever its origins, it remains one of the Sylvan's advantages over the threats that seek to disrupt the Last City.