Heartfelt Sounds

by C. M. Estopare

  I care not for whether this is right or wrong.

  For, after a lifetime of love, and a lifetime of sadness…

  “Stop! I will not sing!”

  Then suffer. Suffer beneath the voices of those who have given their lives so that you might be my puppet. Suffer. Suffer for your failure to fulfill your purpose.

  After our partings, after our times together…

  I grasp that this is what the Fates have scripted for you…

  Hana's voice. The mournful highs and lows that melded with the voice of any songstress. That picked up her pitches, or forced them down. That opened with warmth, that offered every girl the chance at voicing a beautiful melody.

  And in this life…

  …even though I have regrets…

  …I will not complain.

  Naia.

  Naia…

  “She's not dead!”

  You know so little. You're blind. You refuse to see.

  I open my eyes as my cocoon rocks towards the right. Slams into another ball of knotted wood before bouncing off. I go rocking with it when it moves.

  White, blankets the peak of a distant mountaintop…—

  “Stop!—please, mother…stop.”

  As the snow falls, my sorrow for you crumbles into ashes…

  Can snow grasp how beautiful the fallen flower is?

  Hana's voice melds into Yarne's deep baritone. Her voice booms around my ears—explodes from the sky outside with a crackle of thunder followed by a light peel of rain. Drizzle falls outside, slapping upon the water.

  “You must call our souls back, Voice of the East. You must free us. You must free us.”

  “To do so would bring calamity upon my world. To do so would—,”

  To do so, would fulfill your purpose.

  Your destiny has always been to open the gateway.

  You must sing.

  I cannot. I cannot do it. To protect my world—to keep these things from seeping into Sorrel…

  If I am the gateway—my voice—if my voice is what can open Heaven's Gate and let them through…

  My voice—my voice is all I have. It's all I am. Singing is the only thing I have ever excelled at—through all of my travels and all of my trials, it has saved me time and time again. It has saved others—it brought Nyx back from the dead.

  But it has also made you into a tool. You, Naia. You are their tool.

  My voice. My voice is their tool.

  But—no longer.

  I bring my eyes to the wood of the rounded ceiling. “Find another gateway.”

  The sea begins to roll sharply beneath me. Thunder booms overhead and rain pelts my cocoon. It slams into the waters surrounding me as hail. As cold, piercing, hail that falls against the wooden vines outside. That breaks branches and threatens to crack my cocoon wide open.

  “My voice is no longer yours to command, Yarne. It belongs to me.”

  55. Envoi

  I am a titan.

  Hail assaults the crashing ocean outside, and I shift along with the ocean's rocking force.

  I am your liberator. Your creator and your god.

  I hug my knees closer. I squeeze my eyes tight—trying to push out the noise. Trying to push out the sound of crashing waves and pelting hail. Thunder claps overhead—shattering the sky and I shiver against the metallic clash.

  Your power is mine to command. I have your heart.

  But my heart beats in my chest, now. It slams itself against the bones of my ribs as my mouth goes cotton dry. I shut my eyes tighter—but smile at this realization. At the sudden realization that I am no longer anyone's to command. I am no one's tool. I belong to myself.

  “My voice—my voice belongs to me.”

  And my stomach drops. Water thrashes at the sides of my wooden cocoon as it submerges—taking me with it. Suddenly—I can no longer hear the hail and the crashing of the ocean. Suddenly—the rolling thunder seems so far away as my cocoon is pulled below. Deeper and deeper. I am pulled below the waves.

  Even in death you will not be free.

  Droplets of water tap upon my forehead and I open my eyes to watch water drip from a tiny opening between the threaded branches of my cocoon's rounded ceiling.

  Sing. Sing, or perish.

  “I will save Sorrel. I will not open Heaven's Gate for you—or anyone else!”

  The slow trickle roars into a thick geyser of clear water that begins to pool at the rounded bottom of my cage. It isn't long before my back becomes completely drenched. The water is cool—inviting, welcoming as it begins to swallow and lurk around my heels. Outside of the gnarled branches, I hear the watery sighs of bubbles floating up to a silvery surface. Down here, the sharp call of thunder is blunted. Blurred by the harrowing sighs of a shifting sea.

  Water swirls through my hair. I lift my head and bump into twisted branches above as I fight to keep my eyes out of the pooling water. As I fight to breathe.

  Sing, girl. Open the gate—free us.

  I press my lips into a hard line as the water keeps coming. As it dribbles onto my face and showers me—cleansing me of everything I've done. My voice has taken lives—it has taken the lives of many. It has taken friends from me. It has taken me from my home and forced me into a world whose only wish is to use me. To see me as only a voice.

  Voice of the East. You are the Voice of the East.

  A goddess dwells inside of you.

  No—I correct the voice—no.

  I am Naia. An orphan. A girl Yarne picked up off the streets so many years ago. I am Naia. A friend to those who would treat me as such. I am Naia. A peacemaker. A lover. I will protect others for those who have died protecting me.

  I am Naia.

  I am Naia.

  Water surrounds me. Pools past my neck and I raise my chin above it—my throat straining. Veins pop beneath my skin and my heart screams in my ears as the water keeps coming. Cold sweat breaks out upon my forehead. Trickles down my temples and loops into my ears as the water keeps rushing. Keeps piling and piling upon itself until I can no longer lift my chin above it. Until it trickles around the sharp curve of my chin and bubbles around me.

  Blue water curves around my face, forces my hair to float to the surface in sable swirls. My lips twitch as I continue to strain—as I continue to think that I'll make it. That no one—no one is going to take my life from me. Not this day. Not this day.

  Seeping water crawls over me, pulls my face down—but I fight against it. Water yanks my face down, and something cracks as my toes go numb. Beneath the pool, my fingers splay themselves and press into the gnarled vines at my back—but they too go numb. They burn until I can no longer feel them and something crackles. Something chilling and cold cries out beneath the water and grows around my torso. Looping around me—circling around me until cold is all I can feel.

  My face is free. My nostrils rise above the water filling my cocoon as it freezes.

  As everything goes ice cold and I'm suspended in ice.

  Outside, the ocean crackles. Shifts and stills—freezing. Freezing all around me.

  My breath comes in white puffs as my eyes flit from side to side.

  I'm stuck. I feel for my fingers—for my toes—but it's like they aren't there. It feels as if they have been taken from me as my heart slows. As ice bites at my skin and begins to burn me.

  Free us—a voice whispers, gliding along the ice. Blowing warmth into my shell.

  Everything feels raw—everything feels wrong. My eyes are heavy as my blood slows. As everything seems quiet, serene and slow.

  You cannot fall—you cannot falter.

  Shanti's voice—and my eyes snap open.

  Y-you need to wake up, Naia! Y-you need to—

  Chima's voice—they're…speaking to me…

  You know what you need to do, girl. Just think.

  And Akane's breathe swirls through my ears.

  “What—what can I do?” I call out—my teeth chattering together. “I'm going to…”

 
; You can get out of this, Naia! You can—get up! Get UP!

  56. Habit of Will

  Fire roars through my body, breathing life into my fingers and toes.

  You were never one to quit! You were never one to give up!

  Lore's voice—that's Lore's voice!

  Those souls up there are counting on you! We're counting on you!

  My throat constricts as the ice seems to thicken. Frost dusts my eyelids—but I'm awake. I'm awake and moving within this prison of ice.

  Bring us home, little sister. Bring us home.

  Breath chugs through my lungs, entering the atmosphere as white puffs. Thick ice presses harshly upon my chest as I expand my ribcage—trying to take a breath. Trying to suck in the last bit of oxygen I have left as the world spins around me.

  I inhale—nostrils flaring. I inhale and think of the words. Think of a song especially for them—for the lost and the destitute. I think of melting this Sea of Sorrows and forging it into a new world. Forging it into a place especially for those that I and thousands of others have lost.

  Sorrel isn't perfect—it isn't the place for them.

  Our world is not good enough.

  Bring us home.

  I open my mouth.

  Bring them home, little sister.

  I sing:

  In this bitter world, who can declare the difference between love and hate?

  In these mortal realms, who can declare the difference between right and wrong?

  My face feels hollow as I take another breath—another pause. Nothing is happening as I wiggle my fingers in the ice. My forehead feels light as my body becomes weightless—but I fight to feel my fingers and toes. I fight to keep my heart beating and my head somewhat clear.

  But a fog rolls in, sweeping the lyrics of the song from my mind. A fog rolls in and clears all.

  Still. Still—I sing:

  Someday, I would like to ask—'In this world, who writes the scrolls of our Fates?'

  The earth trembles, shuddering as everything begins to shake. Outside of my shell, I hear the ocean shatter into a million screaming pieces as the core of this world seems to thunder and roll with the quaking of the universe. With the quaking of this frozen sea and the cracking of this ice, the pieces violently shatter.

  Someday, I would like to ask—'When mortals dream, who plucks the strings of the ancient zither?'

  Fulfill your purpose, little puppet. Fulfill your destiny.

  I take a trembling breath as ice screams all around me. The ocean's falling to frightful little pieces as the ice in my cocoon begins to crack. Begins to tremble and divide within itself before it ruptures near my feet. Before a crack goes zigzagging towards my face and breaks.

  And my song changes. The lyrics making me swoon:

  And the night deepens, darkness pouring over all;

  as your shadow silently fades.

  The night's somber music quietly softens,

  My hand punches through the divide in the ice. My feet free themselves—and suddenly, I'm shivering. I'm shivering with teeth chattering uncontrollably as an ocean of ice surrounds my chrysalis of wood. I pull my hands up to my forearms and try to stop the movement—but it's no use as my fingers stick to my skin and I feel my pumping blood go ice cold. I'm freezing—freezing to death as my heartbeat slows. As my breath comes out in white puffs and the ocean comes to life around me—ice melting, breaking into watery pieces.

  I open my mouth—clamp down hard onto my tongue with my teeth and pain explodes within my jaw. Cold teeth rip through the mushy muscle of my tongue and liquid surges forth from the bite. Warm liquid. Liquid that stops the chattering.

  I open my mouth.

  You're almost home.

  I sing:

  …as rain pelts the hearts of the people who are missing someone.

  The wind rolls over a thousand mountains,

  as the sea deepens over a thousand miles;

  Water pours from between the cracks of the gnarled branches up above, and splatters onto my head. Ice cold water pelts me—fills the cocoon up with a surging spray of churning ice water. I place my fingers within the crack of the threaded ceiling above and force my index and forefingers through the tiny opening the water spills from. I press my fingers and pull—wrenching hard to try and force an opening into the outside before the water drowns me. But as water piles up to my neck, something twangs in my wrist as I place too much pressure on the hole and I feel the fingers of my right hand scream with pain. But I've got to ignore it—I've got to ignore it as threaded branches over my head crack beneath the gathering pressure of the ocean. They crack and I force a whole hand through the opening before I send my entire arm up through the widening hole. The hole continues to widen and I throw my shoulder up against it as water floods up to my chin. Cold wet tickles my nose and I bring my feet under my body as I fight to get out. As I crack more branches with my thin shoulder and create a hole large enough for me to swim out of.

  K-keep—keep going!

  Chima—Chima! I open my mouth—close it and look towards the surface.

  That is no longer there.

  A rolling black fog darkens the ocean from up above, concealing all light. Concealing all hope.

  I barely have enough air to swim that far—and if the surface has changed again—if the world's flipped and the surface is truly below me…I won't make it.

  I look down—wasting air. Only to see black. A rolling black fog that clouds everything.

  Where do I go?

  Bring us home. Shanti's voice murmurs. You're almost there.

  The ocean wraps it's unforgiving hand around my neck and tightens around my skin—choking me. Making me cough—and bubbles float from my open mouth before I clamp it closed again.

  They float sideways. Towards the right.

  I follow them—kicking violently. My legs throbbing as they twitch and push me through the chilling water. I follow the moving bubbles until they disappear. Moving upwards towards the darkness above before they vanish out of existence.

  Light comes from my right. It fights through the deepening blue, powering through the waters towards me. I reach for it. Grab for it.

  A tentacle of ethereal light wraps around my wrist, and engulfs my arm. Swirling around my skin, it crawls to my face and plunges into my nostrils—forcing me to open my mouth. Forcing me to drown.

  My first thought is to sing as it enters me.

  My first thought is to sing:

  These are memories filled with silver.

  These are memories filled with hope.

  The light welds with my body. It slithers beneath my skin and brings me warmth. It brings me air as water pulses through my nostrils and my mouth—filling my lungs. Displacing everything within my body as I choke. As I open my mouth for one final song. One final verse:

  and I know that I will never forget our oath.

  57. Purpose

  It is done. A voice resonates within me. Bring them home.

  Bring them home, Naia.

  When my head breaks above the surface of the water, I am no longer the Voice of the East.

  When I throw my hair back, arching my neck as water flies against my face, I am no longer a tool.

  I part my hands along the silvery surface of a still ocean and look up to low hanging clouds of ivory and cotton. I watch the moving clouds still. I watch everything pause as my eyes fall to the ocean—an ocean littered with wooden cocoons much like my own. An ocean littered with prisons. With souls barred from the afterlife. With creatures Yarne deemed “her titans”, when they were truly just people. Simple people who lost their mortal lives on Sorrel, and were washed away to a different plane. A plane of nonexistence.

  A Sea of Sorrows.

  I close my eyes, bring back my head and breathe. Salty brine soars high over my head—along with the soft summer scents of sweet grass. It is an intoxicating smell that makes me smile as I inhale—and branches creak. Wood cracks like multiple trees bowing beneath a gust of mighty
spring wind and I smile. I keep my face to the silver sky and smile.

  As wooden cocoons break. As bodies fall into the ocean and water moves as souls swim. As they test their spiritual bodies and fall from threaded prisons.

  I open my mouth.

  I will guide them. I tell myself.

  And I will bring them home.

  I sing:

  My only purpose is to find you.

  My only purpose is to see you safely in my arms.

  Drain the sea—open Heaven's Gate for them! Don't you care for the souls of the destitute? The underworld is full. There is no space for them in the Void!

  Bring them to your world.

  Bring us to the plains of eternity.

  Rain falls. Pelts us, and little drops tap the sea as steam wafts up in spiraling funnels. White steam. Puffy steam that's like free forming cotton as it spirals towards the clouds. And the clouds themselves receive the soaring steam. They receive the steam and give a bit of themselves as the sky begins to fall away. As silver melts to blue and the whole world turns.

  I care not for the harrowing trials the Fates may place in my path,

  For, after a lifetime of love, and a lifetime of sadness…

  When the world turns in on itself, we fall from the ocean as the sky tugs at us. I spread my arms wide and completely open them as my chest comes up. I let it happen—the gentle turning of the world as the sky blackens and the ocean sprays down as rain. We fall—the sky calls for us as it becomes blackened gravel and pulls us towards it's sable terrain. Our bodies turn as our feet angle towards the ground and the ocean pelts us like rain. Like life giving rain.

  The connection that we had—the passion we possessed for each other,

  Is what the Fates have scripted for us…

  My feet touch gravel and I stumble as a multitude of thousands fall to the ground behind me. Rain comes down, wetting our skin and clearing the gravel away as a light drizzle becomes a torrential downpour. As I press my palms to the slick gravel, grass pokes through the black stones. Green blades push away dark pebbles and begins to grow. It curls around my feet and sprouts a single bulb of pink before green explodes behind me. Rocketing behind my feet and towards the crowd of lost souls gathered behind me. Grass spreads like a contagion of happiness, rippling through the black coal and shoving the dark rocks away as it springs beneath the thousands of people behind me. Overhead, a crimson sky parts. Overhead, rain begins to fall calmly. Droplets coming down as little bouts of drizzle, cleansing the ground.