Heartfelt Sounds

by C. M. Estopare

  But who could she be protecting? Stuck in those cells—why would she help this witch murder millions for the lives of a few?

  Why would she become their catalyst?

  “Maybe she doesn't know—,”

  Aroha holds up a hand, palm flat and facing me. “You're letting your ideals loose again, Nyx. Your friend has already chosen her side, it is time you chose as well. Can't you smell it? Change is on the wind and it's fused with blood. Lord Emyr was never meant to die—he was in the prime of his life before she left. He spoke out against the Dawnlord just as the Vale did before it relented. He wanted to make the Wish into it's own territory—free of marshals and emperors, but she wanted something different. And the moment our Lady Diviner leaves to scrap with this Dawnlord in Felicity, Lord Emyr passes. The mantle falls to his son, who is not ready to don the title of 'Lord'. The people of the Wish hate him and our Lady Diviner only feeds this hate with her 'black birds'.”

  Black birds.

  We've heard so little about them—but the few facts we've gathered is enough to make everyone think twice about defying the witch.

  They're immortal, people say. They feel no pain, possess no emotion.

  All of the gods died long ago—yet they still sacrifice to one. They worship the dark god. The mother of the Void and overseer of the Underworld. A dead deity who somehow speaks to them.

  They follow a creature simply called the Nightingale.

  I shiver. I need to leave this place—start fresh. Start new. But most of all—I need to forget. Forget what she's done to me and thousands of others.

  I need to forget.

  I move my gaze to the floor. I clench my jaw. “When can I leave?”

  “Now, if you wish.”

  I'm sorry, Naia—I'm so sorry.

  Leaving again? Running away—again?

  “I'm not an idealist.” I tell Aroha. He chuckles deeply. I cross my arms. “I'm a thief. A spy—but never—never have I been an idealist. The world has gone to shit, most of you say. But you know what I say?” I lean towards him—boring my eyes into his own. He looks on, neither inching away nor moving his gaze. His eyes are unfaltering. “I say, the world's always been shit. It just took a little bit of war and a little bit of change to make people like you realize that.” I turn on my heel, heading for the door. When I reach it, I pause.

  “You're not leaving, then?”

  I lower my head. Raise it, and move my gaze over my shoulder. “I'm taking her with me.”

  The room bubbles with his laughter when I leave. When I slam the door behind me, he's still going. Chuckling like I've said something funny.

  “Good luck.” he snickers darkly.

  …

  I descend into the old remnants of the servant's quarters, rushing down decrepit stone steps with a torch in my hand and a horrible idea on my mind. When I make it to a wooden door I know should be locked—I press on it. Pull at the iron handle and it springs open.

  I know—I know what I can do.

  The nasty stink of mildew and unwashed bodies hits me like a punch to the gut when I'm at the final step. I spit, washing my mouth of it as I hold the torch far out in front of me. The whole place is dark—no windows were cut into the walls here. No candlelight fluttered—nothing. I bring the torchlight to my feet and as I step down. I move around a slick puddle of freshly spilt red that makes me gag. The stench here is terrifying—I was one of the few, one of the unlucky, who retained my vision and sense of smell. While the rest had gone blind because of the witch's experiments—felt urges for meat. Raw flesh. My stomach squeezes at the smell as I fan the torch out around me—letting the place get a bit of light.

  I hear a collective hiss and stop at a writhing pile of collected bodies. Naked. Limbs missing—blood everywhere. Corpses, I correct myself. This was their meal.

  “Listen up!”

  I hear scratching upon the floor. There's a hissing and wind slaps me from my right side. A girl goes running past me and attempts to sniff at me. I hear her mouth crack as it hinges open and I fling the flame towards her. She's a hunched little thing dressed all in rags. Black eyes close immediately once they look at the flame. She backs away into the dark.

  “The witch changed you! Changed us! And I'm telling you all that there's something we can do about it. I'm telling you—,”

  There's a chuckle from behind me, marked in creeping shadows as I sense three bodies surround me.

  “Daywalker?” the chuckler hisses. “We've told you before—these are our halls when the sun sets.”

  Red hair shimmies down thin shoulders and it glitters in the torchlight as she approaches it. She looks somewhat human—a lot like me. Except, she couldn't stand the sun—and she hisses at the fire when she's too close. She hisses—but refuses to back away from it. “What if I told you this whole fortress could be yours? Lord Emyr is dead.”

  And the creatures gasp. They go silent, their leader brings her hands to her mouth. “And the woman who did this to us?”

  “The witch.” one of the creatures hisses.

  “Curse the Lady Diviner!”

  There's a snarl that's uttered from somewhere far off—a response to her name and title—witch.

  “Weakened.” I lie. “Without Lord Emyr she is vulnerable. There are so many of you—the fortress is in disarray without it's lord. Without Lord Emyr—,”

  “But he has a son!” the leader hisses.

  “Wind caller—the wind caller—,” a voice screeches behind me.

  “He'll kill us. He'll kill us all!”

  I shake my head at that—hardening my eyes as I lie. “I have a secret hidden in the cellars—,”

  “In the place where she changed us?”

  I swallow at the hiss—at the sudden silence.

  “Yes.”

  The girls erupt into an angry storm of hisses—and I'm forced to wave my torch around like a wand—trying to calm them. Trying to make them concentrate on me.

  “Listen!” I scream. “Just listen! Alright! You could have this fortress—kill the witch and have this whole city for all I care, but we need to get my secret.”

  “And go to the cellars?” the leader shakes her head. “No, no, no—we cannot. We cannot go there.”

  I'm losing them. I'm losing them—shit.

  But my eyes widen. I smile. “She is the last of us. Down in those cellars—another poor girl the witch has tested on. But, unlike us, she's got this special power. She can control people—call them to us like some sort of siren…imagine how many you'd be able to feed with that kind of power. No one would ever starve or go hungry, because the humans would just come to us. You wouldn't have to hide down here anymore and wait for some overseer to bring you your meal—it would just come to you.”

  The woman muses, scrunches up her face as she thinks. She crosses bony arms over her torso. “And the fortress—you're saying…we could take it?”

  “Kill the witch!”

  “Yes—take her!”

  I nod. “And so much more—you could take the Wish.”

  Gray eyes stare into mine. She licks dry lips and uncrosses her arms only to curl her sharp fingers at her sides. “Then my girls are yours.” she murmurs. “Guide us to your secret.”

  40. Naia

  Akane grasps my hand tightly—always looking back. Constantly throwing her gaze over her shoulder to make sure I'm still there. To make sure I'm still following.

  “…the…nightingale…” she wheezes as she tugs me through the dark and narrow corridor of stone. “…is not…your friend.” she pauses. Whips her head around and takes both of my hands in her's. I shrink back at the touch—but the wetness of her eyes stops me. They seem more lively—more focused and colorful than the eyes of someone who should be dead.

  She seems afraid.

  “Lore?” I ask—breaking the silence.

  Her eyes seem to shiver. She nods her head. “She is not…your friend.” Akane takes in a sudden breath—she blinks. Her eyes rolling back before they
latch back on to me. “Lore…you call her…Lore—she is not—,”

  Galloping footsteps rush above us, stomping out a rhythm that shakes me. That makes both of us tremble as it rushes above us. A quake reverberates through the ceiling, the violent tremor forcing a shower of pebbles and dust to fall upon us like a thick and heavy rain.

  “I've known Lore my whole life.” I find myself saying, my gaze falling to my hands. “Lore has changed—I'll admit that. Tremendously. But—she isn't my friend?” I shake my head at that. “Akane—I have hope.”

  Her lips wrench into a painful smile as she squeezes my hands harder. “That is why…I will always love…you.”

  I watch Akane turn her head back to the front, she's listening for the steps. Listening as they dissipate. “Do you…remember—I said…I said that I'd protect you…”

  And we're walking now, feeling the walls out in the darkness. The door to my cell stays open, a ragged mouth of forgotten wood lit by bright moonlight. White pours through the open door behind me, slithers up the corridor and stops halfway. We are shrouded in darkness as we move forward. As Akane brings me towards the stairwell in an attempt to free me from this prison.

  I nod—but cannot speak as I press my lips together.

  But my mind has other ways of making me speak: “You killed Chima—Shanti. Nyx got away but you—,”

  “I…apologize.” she sighs, wheezes and shambles towards a rounded archway in the darkness. “I…was afraid…but no longer.”

  We find the steps as a high-pitched scream ripples through the air, the sound coming from upstairs. The scream melting into a moan as voices roar out their cry—a cry that rattles my bones and makes me clench my jaw.

  “Tonight…is their night…” Akane murmurs as she tugs me. As she forces me to swallow my fear and follow her up the steps. “Calanthe studied…she worked and…spoke with the…dead ones…—,” Akane swivels her head around, meets my gaze and slightly lowers her head. “—she found you because they…needed you as…as catalyst.”

  “They needed me as a tool.” I snap. Akane slowly turns her head around. Nods.

  “…Calanthe is her…tool…you are more.” Akane shakes her head then, her gaze falling to the stairs. “So…much more.”

  These stairs curve and spiral up. It's like we're walking the outer edges of a tower as we listen to the sounds of people running. Of creatures panting. Something screams with high-pitched laughter and I feel both of us tense at the noise. Akane murmurs to herself as we continue up—it's always the same phrase. The same verse. Tonight is their night. Tonight is their night. Tonight is their night. Over and over as if she's broken. It brings her strength. With every short utterance, she's pulling me harder—moving faster up the stairs as the screams become more violent—more hungry. More desperate and primal as something snarls with a screech and goes running as a man howls prayers to the Fates. It sounds like a miniature battle up there—and that's where Akane's bringing me to as the sounds get louder. As a horrible stench assaults my nose and it smells of human waste. Of blood and panic stricken flesh that's been torn asunder.

  Akane edges her way up with her back to the wall and I do the same as the carnage becomes a blood curdling roar in my ears that feels close. Heat storms through the adjacent hall—feet running, voices screaming. And I shiver—I freeze as I hear Nyx's voice uttered among the screams and feel the urge to sprint—to save her from whatever is happening. But as the stairway peters out and Akane stops with her back to the wall, I spot Nyx running—grinning. She's a flash—a grinning girl with blood crazed eyes—and she's gone. Akane tightens her grip on my wrist.

  “They will…kill you…” she wheezes, chest moving with every shallow breath. “Stay close…to me…” I nod—but she refuses to move. Refuses to move her gaze from my face. I find myself blushing—my face reddening. “…and if…I fall…do not look back.”

  My lips part. Her eyes are like living gems—each blink a frozen memory. Each flash a murmur of her kind tendencies. “Akane, I—,”

  But she turns her head away. Looks towards the exit and she's off. Disappeared into the chaos that's devouring the hall. I follow her blindly—legs pumping as my eyes work to try and not see what's been laid out before me.

  You've been blind for so long. A voice tells me as I run. As I throw my gaze over my shoulder to watch rushing bodies—a horde of women—diving upon a pleading person who screams.

  It is time you opened your eyes.

  The beautiful blue and turquoise that once painted this grand hall is gone. Walls are covered in splattered scarlet that oozes to the ground in slick red waves. Bodies litter the corridor. The disheveled bodies of nightwatchmen and women. Clothed. Silver armor stained with red—gleaming in the pale moonlight. Limbs missing. Their bellies torn—ripped into by human hands—with entrails crawling out like wiggling pink worms doused in grimy scarlet. Their eyes stare at nothing—as mouths are permanently hinged open in silent screams.

  Tonight is their night.

  Akane's mantra. And it ripples through me as we run—as we leave the horde of screeching women behind us and rush for high bronze doors that inch open. We're almost there—moonlight's pouring through the little crack as it widens. As it wheezes and is pushed open—edged open.

  But what I see stops me.

  And I freeze.

  Akane turns back.

  “I promised you a fortress!”

  Nyx's voice and I turn.

  “There—there she is!”

  And the creatures who created this mess—who've ripped bellies and scarred this hallway with blood and scarlet rush at me. Dash at me with wide mouths open—grinning. Tongues hanging out.

  There's a horde of them. Pink bodies bathed in blood. Wide mouths showing sharp teeth.

  I open my mouth—I sing.

  As they push past me. Akane growls and they're on her—but my song has already started.

  Behind me, the door wheezes as the women thump to the floor, piling around me. As their eyes roll back into their heads and I open my mouth wider. I let my song be heard and it soars through the air on silver wings, pouring itself through the doors behind me as my breath throws them open. As midnight air slams into my back and my arms open. As the creatures at my feet scream and fall silent.

  Hands grab at the bottom of my soiled gown. They're climbing—climbing me.

  And I sing louder—louder until they stop. Until they stop pulling.

  When everything is still, I stop. I fall silent.

  My gaze falls.

  Nyx clutches at my dress—her mouth open. Her body fights for air as she hungrily sucks. As she hisses at the moonlight pouring from behind me.

  “She used us as vessels—for her god.” she coughs—I back away. I back away as heels click upon the marble behind me. “We did this,” Nyx breathes. “to save you.”

  “Unfortunately,” There's a voice behind me but I ignore it as my eyes widen. I watch Nyx's eyes roll back. I crouch—I reach for her face and hold her head in my hands. I blink back tears. “you can never control a monster.”

  Clicking heels become a roar in my ears as I pull Nyx towards me. A contorted circle of limp bodies surrounds me—a collection of listless women marked in blood. Akane's behind me. Her body prostrate and limp on the marble as dead hands reach for her—stretch for her—but they're all frozen. Dead. Gone.

  Nyx's heart does not beat as I hold her. As the heels stop clicking behind me and the murmuring voice is close. Hovering over me. A familiar sensation—a familiar darkness wafts from this presence. It threatens to choke me—but I ignore it. I ignore it as I cradle Nyx—as I stare into her sightless eyes.

  “She was a failed experiment. A failed creature—all of them were. Unworthy of being the dark god's vessel. But you are different—you possess her voice—,”

  “Shut up.” I murmur as I hold Nyx. As I look into her glassy eyes. “Shut up—shut up!”

  And the voice gasps. It growls—but it quiets.

  It l
ets me speak.

  It lets me sing:

  Beneath the half-crescent moon,

  the glittering surface of a dark sea heaves again,

  acting like a shadow,

  as another few centuries pass.

  And there's a kick of breath in the girl I cradle—a swift gasp that makes her eyes widen. That makes them close and I smile. I smile as I feel her breath and her blood.

  But she grows cold. Her heart hiccups—trembles—dies.

  And I open my mouth once more:

  Centuries that have been buried deep within my memories,

  and my gaze turns, eyes staring at stars buried deep beyond the clouds;

  She must learn to take.

  And I do—I steal the life behind me. Reaching for the breath that bubbles in Calanthe's throat—stealing it. Weaving it through the air as Calanthe gasps. Chokes on breath that is no longer there and collapses behind me. Falling to her knees.

  I finish the verse:

  This is my never changing love.

  Akane cannot come back. Her soul is gone—gone to the heavens—but Nyx was meant to stay. Stay here with me.

  I am selfish. A cowardly and selfish thing.

  But when Nyx's eyes open, I do not see hate. I do not see pain, nor sorrow.

  I see love.

  41. Nyx

  Naia grins softly. She whispers the tiniest hint of a sigh as her bright eyes roll back into her head—but she's still smiling. Somewhat laughing—giggling as she hinges over from the hips and collapses onto me. I let out a hiss of air as her torso pummels me. I let the world surround me—the bodies, the stench—the quiet drip of blood echoing from somewhere. Nothing's telling me to move—or care. So I just lay here, staring up into a ceiling that sparkles like the sky as moonlight fades to gray and brightens with a rusty tinge that warns us that the sun is coming.

  I feel her breathe on top of me. She's sleeping—passed out. I close my eyes too, allowing myself to become a part of this pile of dead and sleeping things. I allow myself to sail away somewhere safe—somewhere normal, somewhere new where all of this crazy bullshit doesn't exist.