Meret 

And her sons and Granddaughter
Joraah, Merissa and Joren

In the world of Amerath, all those who made it beautiful were changing, always growing but still remained the things of sprites, fairies and the elementals.  Of the sprites, Alcea, the Guardian was first. She oversaw and mentored many others, including Adlena, Sprite of the Crystals brought forth moonlight. Adlena had a daughter. At first, flowers, meadows, forests, and even coral reefs looked plain in shades of grey or black and white. It was Aris, daughter of Adlena, who gave them color. 
The world, of course held many sounds. Rhythmic waves, against the shore, gave background beats. Dried leaves crackled underfoot. Birds called from branches filled with flowers.  Wind chimed in as a storm with vigor or as a gentle breeze to add some middle tones. Softness played from rustling wheat, newborn forests, and prairie grass. Even crickets chirped. Daylin and Aeleen, both fairies, lived in the meadows where they sang in the light of the sun and danced in the light of each moon. Watching over them, and bringing more joy to Amerath, was Aindris, the new Goddess of song.
To Andris, the sounds were pleasant, but just sounds. At times they soothed and calmed. At other times they mixed and fought, swirling up to mix with graying clouds in high topped storms. Each bird had its song. Each insect sang its peep, each frog its croak. Aindris loved to hear the fairy Daylin sing his song to Aeleen. But Aindris knew the song by heart. 
One fog painted morn, the lightest rain; a sprinkle, drummed its tiny patter. Each drop dimpled rings that spread and mixed like dancers on the pond. In that moment Aindris called to her fairy minions, asking them to help. Not many gave a thought that helped. Fairies are the hardest workers but tend to be a more of a single minded. Meret newest of the fairies, watched her friends and gave a smile. She tapped her tiny finger to the cadence of the raindrops and softly hummed, mostly to herself. “I’ve heard a sound” she said, almost as a whisper. “Or more a group of sounds. They swept and swirled around me. My heart felt lighter and then changed to melancholy.”
 “Where?” asked Aindris. “What creature, what child of mother earth? Was it a wind? Please tell me.”
“It wasn’t from a song that I could sing,” Meret explained. “Sometimes the sounds come together just so, just right, and sometimes not. Sometimes they just make noise. The bird sings, but you could guess the sound before it’s sung. We need a way save a song, that’s not just from the memory of one of us or the woodpecker drumming on a tree. We need a way to make the sound, first one way and then another to fit a mood of joy this time and sorrow next. Think of that woodpecker, first on an old and withered trunk long resting in the ferns. Then the bird does the same, but the wood is new, and it makes a different sound. Next, dinner is pecked from a hollow log.”  
“I agree with all your words of sounds and noises, drumming and whistles. But what hope is there for what I seek?” 
“There is always hope,” Meret said.  “I can hope that tomorrow I awake as a new elemental. But it’s not hope that world do it. It would need to be something else. What do we need for this? Who knows? Before we can have ‘knowing,’ we need a bit of ‘thinking.’ Thought can lead to knowledge and knowledge mixes well with creativity. And creativity sometimes gives what was hoped for, but often something better.”
“Meret,” Andris said. “I see in you the thinking.  What are WE to do?”
“I know of two who could bring to Amerath something more; something from your dreams; something to dream to. They are my sons, Jorah, and Joren. Jorah, the eldest, is a dreamer and writer. I would have him create a way, other than simple memory, for anyone to share their sounds. Call it music. Joren, the youngest, works with his mind through his hands.   He is a crafter, a builder and could find many ways to make all kinds of music. No one need wait for a summer storm to push the waves or shake the limbs along the shore to play grand sounds. My younger son will craft fine instruments for those who wish to play and show their own mood through their music. These instruments will all be grand and made from many things. Be you play the music fast and furious, thoughtful, or expressive, sanguine, or mirrored of your soul. It will fill the hearts of others.”
“On this day,” Aindris said, “Meret, you are my new Princess, whose sons Jorah and Joren, are the Sprites of Music and Instruments.