Heartfelt Sounds

by C. M. Estopare

  “And why?” I demand, my voice rising. “So you're just going to run? When we're so close to ending everything—you're just going to run?”

  “Tell me you wouldn't.” she deadpans. “If you had the choice—tell me you wouldn't run, Naia.”

  I sigh heavily, bringing my hands to my hips. “If you were in my predicament?”

  “You brought me back—and I'm grateful, but…” she swallows, moves her head to the side and closes her eyes. “…I can't. I can't go there.”

  “To the Vale?”

  “No.” she shakes her head again. Uncrossing her arms, she points towards the desert. “To the wastes. The resting place of the gods, Naia. I can't go there! That ground is hallowed.”

  “For a day and a half? You can't just…” and I hiss. I cross my arms and shake my head. “What do you mean?”

  “You brought me back.” she repeats as her hands fall to her sides. She clenches her fists. “I have no soul—I feel it. I know it's gone. I'm not—a thing like me—it would be sacrilege for me to step into Csilla. And I can't—I just can't—,” I hear her choke and I still. For a moment, I'm just listening as she stumbles over her own words. “Even before—before you brought me back—I couldn't have set foot in there. You and Shanti are Camilla Vas—vessels of the gods. But everyone can't handle holding the spirit of a divine one within them—and those that can't—they turn into monsters if they hold it in for too long. The spirit corrupts their soul. It makes room in them—gets rid of their original soul. Makes space for itself.” I hear her sigh and I inch closer—but she takes a step back. “My soul left long ago, Naia. Long—long ago. You brought me back too late—and I think—I think my soul is lost forever.”

  “But if I fully come into my power—maybe I could get your soul back. Maybe you could become a whole person again, Nyx! Don't give up so easily!”

  When Nyx's gaze locks with my own, her eyes appear broken. They appear far away. Dark irises look shattered. Cracked. “The Fates have made me a path, Naia. And it no longer crosses with yours. Please—just let me go. Please.” and her voice becomes a gentle whine as she pleads. As her eyes cloud up with fog.

  I open my arms, palms up, and she comes. Grasps my hands with limp fingers. With an uncertain look upon her pained face and a hunched back. I squeeze her fingers within my own. My smile is soft. “Maybe someday,” I tell her, “we will meet again.”

  Maybe someday.

  Nyx nods as she slides her hands from my own. I let her trudge past me—the girl moving towards the arching mountain range—avoiding the Csillian sands as much as she can. I turn to watch her leave. To watch her run away again as she charges towards dark clouds that break with an uneven dawn.

  I watch her turn her gaze towards me. I watch her lips move.

  Thank you. They say. I'll see you soon.

  And I nod.

  As the ruinous pit in my stomach warns me that—no.

  You will never see her again.

  49. Shadows in the Wastes

  Tall dunes of burnt red disappear, shifting beneath a strong gust of morning air. Sand creeps into the sides of my slippers as we trudge through grit and gathering heat.

  Nyx left a couple of hours ago. Before the dawn broke. “I would have rather taken the mountain path as well. Anything is better than this heat.” Shanti gripes beside me, fanning her face with her hand as we walk. “But time is not on our side.”

  When I bring my gaze to Ran, he blinks and narrows his eyes as he looks towards the sky. “She said she wouldn't set foot in Csilla—guess she…meant it.” he murmurs, his voice somewhat wooden and hollow.

  “She thought it would be sacrilege if she—,”

  But Shanti cuts me off: “She's overly devout, little Nyx. And it's a shame, really, because she's turned into one of those daywalker monstrosities.” And Shanti shakes her head, brings a hand to her forehead and swipes away sweat. “The Fates will never let her pass on into the next world. The poor thing is cursed.”

  And a whisper of sand sails over our heads in a thin veil of grit. We're forced to close our eyes and protect our faces as it goes swirling by. The sand catches a draft of air rolling off the shadow of the mountains as it moves away.

  Ran begins to amble on through the sand faster, and we're forced to follow as more wind picks up sand. Churning wind reshapes the desert as it forces dunes to shift and lower. As the terrain beneath us shifts, rising as sand collects in a rolling sea of red. We're forced to climb a dune that slowly grows taller and taller. When the wind stops and the dune stills, we climb beneath the overbearing face of a sun that's flown higher into the sky and I feel my chest constrict.

  We're high, I realize as we come to the peak of the dune. We're high up, and there's a sea of red shifting down there. A sea of glassy grit that goes on and on—there's no end in sight and I hear my blood begin to rush in my ears as a hand squeezes my shoulder and tugs at me.

  “We've got no time for you to panic.” Comes Shanti's voice as she tugs me along. “A day and a half, Naia. Remember that: a day and a half.”

  I nod. Repeat the phrase back to myself, but it does nothing to calm my breathing or stop my nerves.

  It does nothing, but I continue—despite the growing bank of fog puffing from our left. Despite the cloudless sky slowly becoming darkened by clouds reaching from all four corners of the earth—I continue. But my throat constricts—worry choking me.

  …

  The sun finds its place in a sky that's become swathed with deepening stains of dark clouds. They form a funnel as the sun centers itself in the little bit of blue sky we have left.

  Shanti welcomes the sudden shade and desert chill that comes with it. Ran murmurs that we need to pick up the pace as the desert darkens, stained clouds strengthening with black up above.

  It isn't long before the wind picks up and the collection of puffing clouds that simply shifted and danced towards our left, becomes an angry arching hand of black that reaches towards the sky before diving hard towards the desert. The arching clouds swallow the sands, rolling over dunes as it spits sharp sand shards at us. Thunder peels—roaring up above as I spot silver threads of lightening curving through the dark clouds.

  For a long moment, everything is dark as we continue. As we race through a gathering storm that howls at our backs as the wind grows stronger. As its force becomes fiercer and we shield our faces from a storm that threatens to blind us. That threatens to deafen us with its shrieks of warning and its ground shattering cries. Arching clouds of black rove over the desert wastes, towering clouds chasing us as we run. Shanti falls behind, and I reach to grab her hand as the black clouds are within miles of us. As they veil the land in a sheet of shard swiped darkness, that's coming closer—ever closer.

  The land begins to sink. Red sand dies, fading to a smoky black beneath our feet as we run. As the arching clouds stall—pausing before they swallow us. Before a chaotic wind explodes in our ears and obsidian shards smack past our faces—shooting past us in high-pitched screams as the land seems to erupt all around us. Rising, only to fall—only to fly past us in a chaotic wind of black and gray. My hair flies about my face as my gown threatens to tare itself from my body. I hold Shanti's hand as it becomes a death grip on my own—and Ran has disappeared as I throw my gaze around. As sand rips at my face and I'm forced to close my eyes as grit rakes me beneath my eyelids. As the ground pulls down at us—a harsh chorus of low moans assailing my ears as a hand grabs my ankle.

  Shanti's hand slips from my own and I open my eyes—only to be blinded by the sand. The sand and the howls of the storm.

  “Shanti!” I scream as a pair of hands grab at my wrists. As I fall to the ground and sandpaper skin grips my right wrist. Rough fingers wrap around me—tugging me down as the sand surrounding me begins to pile over my hands. As it begins to pile over my arms and legs and I feel myself being pulled. Moaning hands pull at me—pinch and prod at me as I pull away—as I grip for ground that only tumbles through the crevices of my outst
retched fingers.

  The air chokes me—fear constricts my throat as the howling wind deafens me. Cotton fills my mouth and my eyes feel gritty. I can't see—as grit begins to scrape at my nostrils. As more strange hands begin to pull at my skin and yank me down. Yank me farther and farther down as the sand opens up around me and the wind screams above my head.

  A hand grips my own. A human one.

  As a high-pitched scream ripples through the air—taring through the wind and the sand and the storm. Ripping through everything—until my eardrums burst and all I hear is silence. All I hear is a high-pitched buzzing in the air that forces me to open my eyes.

  A pit of black surrounds me. Sand collapses into the pit as thousands of mangled hands reach towards a blackened sky of sand and grit. Shanti stands at the heart of it all, her body slowly being swallowed by the sinking pit of black as she opens her hands to the sky and throws back her head.

  She's singing. She's singing for me.

  And a skin tingling cry escapes through her lips, her voice ripping a hole through the gathered clouds as a human hand pulls me from the pit—rips me from the grip of the gnarled hands and their fleshy embrace.

  But Shanti's sinking as she calls out to the storm—and the hands reach for her now as a horde of deep voices moan and gurgle. As hands disappear beneath the black sand, only to reappear closer to Shanti. Only to rip at the black cloth of her cloak as she continues to scream her siren's call. As she continues to sing—creating a diversion as a hand tries to pull me up and I scramble from the pit. Kicking up dust as the storm around us dies. As it howls a pained cry and shards rip at me. The hand is still holding me back—but with my free hand I reach. I reach towards Shanti who is still screaming her song as she's yanked down. As the desert opens its dark mouth to swallow her whole.

  Shanti tilts her head, moving her gaze towards me as sun breaks through the dark clouds above. She lowers her arms as she sinks. As she grins with a sidelong gaze of violet.

  Silence pervades as she opens her mouth. As the hands wrapped around my forearm violently yank at me. Forcing me down into the dirt as they drag me.

  “My only purpose,” she murmurs, ruby red lips parting gently, “was to find you.”

  And in this life, even though I have regrets…my mind whispers as my lips refuse to part.

  “…I will not complain.”

  Ruby red lips grin. Slender violet eyes crinkle at their corners as her angular face tilts. As hair awash with silver and black shimmers beneath bright beams of gold. This is when I see the deep set lines that age her face. Wrinkles collect in creases at the corners of her wide mouth as her squinting eyes well up. As clear tears spill from the pink corners of her eyes, wiping away grime and dust.

  My free hand reaches towards her—reaches and stretches as I'm yanked back again.

  Shanti.

  The ground swallows her. The gnarled hands descend.

  “Shanti!”

  As the clouds part and I rip my arm away from Ran's grip. As I race towards the spot where she disappeared.

  The black fades away to red, and I'm scooping handfuls of sand up and away. I'm digging for her as I collapse to my knees and sand's rubbing them raw as I dig. As tears form in my eyes and fall. Dropping to the sand. Staining it darker than it should be.

  I dig. I dig and I dig as the clouds roll away and the sun presents itself. I dig and I dig.

  And a long shadow covers me. Rolling over my place in the sand as my shoulders tremble.

  The storm's gone, and Shanti did this. The storm's gone, and she sacrificed herself.

  For me.

  50. Hazy Omens

  “Is she dead?” I swallow—staring at the red sand. “Where—where did they take her?”

  Behind me, Ran shifts. He has no answer and I do not pressure him to speak as I drop my palms into the grit. As my fingers curve around handfuls of sand and I shove myself up to standing. I dust the sand from my ragged skirts and hiss at the sharp pain this simple movement brings. Tiny cuts lash through the skin of my lower arms and neck—the tiny scars biting at me as I move.

  When this is all over—then, then you'll have time to mourn. Until then…and my throat constricts as I bite my lip—fighting back tears. Until then, you need to find a way into the Void. You need to get your heart back.

  And I nod at the words. I blink away tears and turn to face Ran who waits patiently. His hands dig into the pockets of his trousers as he stares off into the horizon.

  I need to keep going—for her.

  And I walk past him—continuing on towards the Vale. Treading through the sand with my eyes on the blue of the horizon.

  For all of my friends who have given their lives for me to get this far—for me to attain so much power—I need to keep going.

  Ran shifts through the sand, his large strides overtaking me as he guides me towards the right—where the sandstorm came from.

  For them all—I must keep going.

  …

  Dark clouds begin to hang over our heads, and for a moment I think another sandstorm is on its way. But as a colossal head of stone rises above a low dune some miles away, the dark clouds break to reveal a slowly fading sky of light purple with bright orange undertones. The sun's setting as the entire head of the statue breaks through the surface of the red sand, its glassy eyes scanning the entirety of the desert as we walk.

  “Ran,” I call and he nods his head beside me. “what is that?”

  He hums beside me, murmuring beneath his breath before he opens his mouth to answer. “I'm not taking you to the Vale.” he admits matter-of-factly, his eyes on his feet. “Those things that took your friend?” he shakes his head now, sighing. “They're a myth. A Csillain tall tale. They aren't supposed to be real—but my Csillain friend, he warned me about them. And I'm a dumbass for not believing him. For not listening to his warnings.” He stops in the sand, then—trips and I stoop to try and catch him. But Ran's quicker than me. He's on his feet and moving before I can even register that he's back up and walking. I trip over myself to keep up—to listen to his voice as it goes dry. “It's my fault your friend died—I'm not letting them take you too.”

  “You—,” I try. “—it's not—,”

  “—I'm taking you to Scion—like he would have.” and his amber eyes snap to me as my brow furrows. As I twist my lips and stop in the sand. “I'm taking you to where your kind belongs.”

  “But the Vale—the Void—Shanti's plan!” I think to turn back—to find my own way to the Vale. But this desert is vast. “You can't just make decisions for me!”

  Ran stops too. Cocks his head and crosses his arms as he turns towards me. “Alright, well make your choice. We continue that way,” he points towards my left. Towards the dying horizon. “and we go to the Vale—find Selina City and hope Shanti's friend will help you do—whatever. Providing those sand wraiths don't get us first. Or,” his hand moves towards the colossal head of the statue rising above the darkening sands, “we go to Scion—get help with dealing with these things and maybe some provisions that'll last us awhile.” he recrosses his arms, tilts his head to the left as he frowns slightly. “Your choice, girl. Like you said—I can't make the decisions—but I know this desert better than you. I know what'll get us to Selina—even if it does require a detour. So?”

  I look towards the head of the statue as clouds break above it. Violet skies rip a jagged road through the clouds above. My gaze finds our pathway to the Vale and my eyes rove over miles and miles of sand. It shifts like a sea. Like an unmerciful sea of gritty red.

  What would Shanti do?

  How much time do I have? I need my heart—but I also need my life.

  What if those wraiths come back?

  And I shiver. I tremble at the feeling of sandpaper hands creeping up my leg.

  Shanti called the storm and the wraiths away—then paid with her life to save us.

  I cannot let her sacrifice be in vain. I cannot.

  I relent. “And how long would
it take? To get to Scion?”

  “Two hours.” he tells me, turning away. “Maybe three.”

  I nod, making my decision. I clench my fists at my sides and walk.

  As the desert opens up for us, darkening sands shifting with the gentle pull of an evening wind.

  A thunderclap booms in the distance as the rising face of the statue lights up. Bright orange makes it's face come alive as sharp yellows hang dancing shadows beneath its cavernous eyes.

  When the smoke comes, we hardly notice it as night devours all in a lonesome darkness.

  51. Bitter Visions

  The arms of the statue open up as its torso rises from the sand. Each step brings us closer and closer to the giant overlooking the desert as the night sky above blinks with twinkling stars. Firelight dances upon the giant's rounded face, the light reaching from its torso as flame shadows wither and dance.

  “Light keeps them away.” Ran mentions as a light wind buffets us. “Fire works good too.”

  There's a gentle buzzing in my ears as we cross a low dune in the night. When we're at its peak, Ran stops. Surveys the open arms of a desert town that's bright with firelight.

  White buildings rise from the sands like bulbs forcing themselves through ash. Though the desert has turned a bright shade of pitch, the colorful clay paved streets are awash in dancing light that grows from the center of the town. The buzzing becomes louder now, as it deepens into a chorused chant that's sung by a multitude of mismatched voices—all clashing against each other. All fighting to be heard among a sea of others as the voices resound around a fire. As the fire lights up the white walls of rectangular buildings and pastel colored markings staining the clay paved passageway. It is here that the giant takes her post, its monstrous torso of intricately carved stone rising as it opens its arms to welcome the world. From it's arms hang enormous shadows that surround the town. That hide dark iron gates made bright by the fire burning in the town's heart. Feminine features make up the giant's face, as a cosmic crown of stars dot her forehead. Sharp stone spires grow from the top of its head and reach towards the sky—cutting through the night clouds above as they swirl about the tip.