It started as a low thrum, a rhythmic pulse that felt more like a heartbeat than music. Thomas followed the sound to the underground scriptorium, where a young novice named Julian sat hunched over a primitive arrangement of synthesizers and parchment.

"No," Julian smiled, the glow of the monitor reflecting in his eyes. "They will call it a return to the mystery."

Brother Thomas moved through the cloisters, the hem of his heavy wool robe sweeping against the stone. For years, the monks here had practiced the as their ancestors had—monophonic, stark, and ancient. But tonight, a new sound was bleeding through the limestone walls.

Julian pressed a key. A deep, resonant bass line filled the room, grounding the space. Then, he signaled to a group of brothers standing in the shadows. They began to sing the Salve Regina .

"What is this, Julian?" Thomas whispered, though his heart raced with an unexpected thrill.