Silence: Part Two of Echoes & Silence

by Am Hudson

  “One drop of its juice on a dying Crux, and the spirit bound to it can walk back along a spell from the Fog of Purgatory, and return to the earth.”

  “And I could not imagine a more fitting or more perfect little soul for your daughter than my precious Eve.”

  We both smiled, but as I turned my heel toward the Stone, Lilith reached out and grabbed my wrist.

  “Wait,” she said, her voice short with a sense of urgency. “I see a path for her—shaping, moulding, even now as we speak.”

  “What is it?”

  “Unlike your soul being bound to your body—a gift from one living being to another—Eve will be brought back into this world by unnatural means, bound only by that object. Her soul is not connected by both your blood and that of the child’s father—”

  “But neither is mine,” I cut in. “I have a Spirit Crux.”

  “No. Your soul is connected. The crux is there purely to guide your soul when it becomes disconnected. And it shields you; to any other being, or creature, it looks as though your soul was born to your body. We cannot see the difference in your aura.”

  “So that’s how you can tell? The aura?”

  “Yes. And your daughter will, as far as Nature is concerned, be an abomination—an unnatural occurrence—and it is my duty as the Mother of Nature, of all Life—to warn you that she will be seen, and she will be hunted—crux or none.”

  “Hunted?”

  “An immortal soul becomes a singular entity when they are submerged within the Fog of Purgatory; they are ripped from their soulmates. Do you remember when I told you that they scream for their mates?”

  I nodded.

  “Eve’s mate has moved on—reincarnated. When you create a new pathway, as you intend to do—giving her soul to a body that is not her own, or not connected by blood—she will not pass through the Rivers of Life and connect with another soul. She will not have a mate, as you do—a likeness—and therefore, she will be an anomaly, upsetting the balance of all Life. Two parts to everything.” She joined both hands in demonstration. “Two sides to every coin. Where there is good there is bad, and so on.”

  “So she’ll be hunted? All her life?” I recalled then what Lord Eden said to me just weeks ago—about the Soul Takers.

  “Yes.”

  “But there’s a way to protect her—hide her from them, isn’t there?” I asked, my eyes narrowed at Lilith as I stepped toward her. “You wouldn’t have told me this if there wasn’t.”

  “There is a way.” She smiled softly, her cold eyes showing more warmth than I’d seen in a very long time.

  “How?”

  “Choose a mate for her. Choose a soul already bound to this earth—one that crossed by natural means. And bind her to that soul.”

  “Bind her? You mean… you want me to choose who her soulmate will be?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, isn’t that wrong—writing her fate? Choosing her destiny? And what about the mate that other soul might already have?”

  “It will, from that moment on, have two soulmates—as you do.”

  “But that doesn’t seem fair. What if that soul is happy with their mate, and my decision—”

  “You will only choose the soul that will ground her to the earth. The rest will be determined the moment she takes her first true breath of life. From that point, if she is to love this soul or simply connect with them, it is out of your hands.”

  “But… who would I choose?”

  “I cannot tell you whom to choose. But choose wisely, whomever it may be. For this soul will not just be her Guardian—shield her from the Soul Takers—it will also influence her.”

  “How so?”

  “If you choose a good, kind soul, she will feel love radiate from that being like a reflection—she will liken herself to this. But if you choose a cold, bitter soul, she will be tainted by that. She will eternally feel incomplete.”

  Making a choice to fight for her life had been the easy part. Choosing who she would one day possibly love was impossible. And unfair.

  Were she not his niece, Jason would have been the easy choice—he was kind and good and I knew he would take care of her.

  Then there was Mike. Again, kind, and a good solid foundation for any girl to love. But he was my best friend and there was too much history there.

  So many friends had come into my life in the past few years and so many were good and kind. So few worthy of my daughter. So few I hadn’t actually loved at some point.

  Except for one.

  “I know who to choose.” I looked up from my distant memories into Lilith’s deep wells of ancient knowledge again. “Now what?”

  “When you bring her soul back to this Realm, speak the name of her new mate into the words of the incantation—picture him, feel him in your heart—and his fate will be written in the light of that power, coiled around hers. The child will be bound to Eve by the crux; Eve’s soul will be bound to the crux by the blood that already flows through it, and the soulmate will be bound to the soul by Light.”

  “And she’ll be safe?” I asked. “My daughter will be safe then?”

  “Being that the soulmate is bound to the soul, not the body, she will need to wear her Spirit Crux. Always. But, yes, she will be safe.”

  “Right.” I nodded. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do—for now. “Then I guess I had better figure out how to free the magic beneath that Stone.”

  “Lay your hands upon it,” Lilith offered, moving away. “And the rest will become clear.”

  My uncertainty mixed with the hope I felt from the ground beneath my feet, as if all Life moved through the veins of the earth, carrying with it the wish of the power that lay beneath.

  I settled back down onto my knees, my hands against the Stone of Truth, and searched within my heart for a way to set it free.

  The Stone felt warmer than usual, maybe even hot, the temperature building under my fingertips, forcing beads of sweat out onto my palms. But I didn’t want to let go—to move away. I could feel it shifting, feel the rock changing beneath my hands, and by some call of instinct or maybe something more intrinsic, I did actually know what I needed to do, even if I didn’t outwardly know it. It felt like playing a song I’d played a hundred times: I didn’t need to think about what to do; I just needed to do it.

  I could hear a voice in my mind—maybe a distant memory. I focused on it, smiling as I saw myself by Winter Falls, with Jase:

  “So, what d’you think it’s for?” I’d said to him. “I mean, why would I have this kind of power? Like, what use is it?”

  “I don’t think vampires inherit certain powers because of any use they may have or even for a path they might take in the future,” he’d told me, “but maybe since you’re an Auress as well, your abilities might have some benefit to nature.”

  “How so?”

  “No idea.” He’d shrugged. “What good could possibly come from heating water or melting stone?”

  “What good could possibly come from melting stone?” I whispered, my hands wet against the stone, tiny vines creeping out from inside it, growing across the surface.

  I closed my eyes for a moment as the sharp point of a vine cut through my palm, releasing the pure blood from inside me. The tip of each vine moved in for the blood then, drinking it down, the colour red changing their appearance closer to the rock’s surface, and with the purity of my blue light filling the clearing, I could now see the very tops of the trees, glowing in the dark dawn like faraway flashes of lightning. I laughed as warmth trickled from the Stone and into my hands like a happy feeling, the vines moving away from my blood when they’d had their fill, stretching and tangling themselves around another, twisting and binding until they became thick white branches. They glistened slightly as flakes of snow landed against them, melting in their warmth, and as the last of the rock melted away, nourishing the new roots with water, I shuffled back in the dirt, falling onto my hands.

  A bright blue light beame
d off the trunks of the surrounding trees as the new plant curled and stretched its way upward in the sky, spreading its branches like the wide arms of a loving friend. It stood at half the height of the older trees around it, white and glowing like warm sun.

  I could feel the Life—centuries of energy from all manner of living things—trickling through its veins. And at the base of it, tangling and squirming in the soft, cold soil, the roots took hold of our earth, running deep within its core—to where, I wasn’t sure. All I knew, by a feeling in my chest, was that it touched a river of running water—something far away or perhaps far from this world. But the energy it drew could not be compared to anything I’d ever felt. Except maybe for holding my baby and seeing her take a breath for the first time.

  I forced myself to stand in its presence, my eyes locked to the elegant twist of the branches, like an intricate weave of family history.

  A deep voice, one I knew I could hear but never actually heard, seemed to call me to the tree’s circle.

  I rushed forward and laid my hands to its warm, milky trunk. Its branches hung high above my head, despite the taller trees around the clearing dwarfing it, and as the sun rose higher into the new day’s sky, Nature’s light touched it for the first time.

  It stretched its arms out wide, as if angling its face to the sun, and I could almost hear its limbs growing and moving to the glow of the winter light.

  “Never has there been such beauty in a world so tainted,” Lilith said, her usually very strong voice breaking.

  I turned my head to see her watery eyes, fixed on the majesty of the tree.

  “When I brought the seed of Life to this land,” she said, “it was barren here, and bare. The magic within that seed brought richness to these lands—lands that now and will forevermore belong to my descendants. But, though the roots ran deep between this world and the next, the fruit of that tree was too pure to breathe the air of Man. When the branches touched the sky, the purity was sickened by it—it recoiled—and for many years I blamed God, when the truth was, this soil needed purification—a gift I could not give it. But you, Seeker—” she appeared beside me, gently tilting my face to hers with the tip of her finger, “—with your pure heart and blood, had the power to set it free… to set me free.”

  “Set you free?”

  Lilith nodded once, letting go of my face. “You once wished with all of your heart for a place to call home—a place in the world that you belonged. And I was no different in my younger years. When I left the Garden of Eden—left Adam—I had nowhere to go. After a while walking this realm, I had been scarred and damaged by Man, and I could not stand the smell of him. I needed a place that I could be safe, free—a place to call home. So I chose a land that none other wanted and I hoped to nourish it with the seed of Life. But because the soil was too impure, because too many had died here and too much sin had been committed, the tree could not grow. In its weaker, infant form, it shrivelled up in the ground to protect itself, but it was still vulnerable—the magic radiating off the stone casing, free for the taking. I swore that if it left Life here, nourished the soil, I would remain and protect it from evil until the day came when one would be pure enough to cleanse the soil and free it of sin.

  “You have set it free now, Seeker—given it strength to survive in this world. Now, the magic, the power, belongs to you—is yours to protect…”

  “So I’m stuck here now? In this forest—”

  “No, Seeker.” She wiped her cheek, shaking her head as though she felt silly for crying. “I mean simply that this tree is yours now. Your pure heart, pure blood, pure soul has set it free, and now you must protect it and guard it for all time.”

  “How do I do that if I don’t stay in the forest?”

  “See to it that its power is never used for evil—that its fruit is never tasted by the lips of an impure man. Its roots run deep into the Rivers of Life, and the magic, the power that radiates throughout the world now is too great to be measured. Those sensitive to spirits, to magic, will feel its power—can use its power to See, to Charm—for many things. And you, in turn, will feel it when that power is tapped into. If you feel darkness, you must seek it out and end it.”

  I nodded once—accepting this—and placed my other hand back against the tree, feeling a connection to it that ran deeper than the soul. “It wants me to bring my child here—lay her beneath its boughs.”

  “Then you must,” Lilith said, turning to take my other hand. “And I will be awaiting your return—to meet my new great great granddaughter.”

  My shoulder sunk. “First, I need to find that crux.”

  “Look where you have looked before.” She smiled knowingly. “Perhaps, in your clearer state of mind, you will see that it was in plain sight all along.”

  “Great,” I said, turning away. “Another one of this family’s infamous riddles.”

  ***

  By the time I returned to my room, David and Emily had cleared away all Walter’s junk and pulled my things from storage, piecing the room back together as if none of the past few weeks had ever happened.

  I stood for a moment in the open doorway, watching David where he sat on a chair at the foot of the bed, his arms folded, the muscles in his face tightly pulled with thought.

  A tiny little bundle of blankets—blue Peter Rabbit ones from the old Institute for the Damned—lay in the middle of the bed, breathing softly in the quiet of early morning.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked.

  He looked up quickly, wiping his hands over his head as if to rub off whatever expression he’d been wearing. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Clearly.” I leaned across the mattress and defensively scooped my baby off the bed, cradling her lovingly in my arms. “Did she cry while I was gone?”

  “No.”

  “Did she need a bottle?”

  “No.”

  “A nappy change?”

  “No. That’s just the thing, Ara…” He got up. “She… she does nothing. Doesn’t cry, doesn’t stare, doesn’t look at you. She looks… through you, as if…”

  “As if there’s nothing there,” I said, gently kissing her soft little head. “So is that what you were thinking about when I came in?”

  “No.” He sat down again with a long sigh, his shoulders slumped, hands loosely resting between his thighs. “I was thinking about last night.”

  “What about it?”

  “I just… can’t believe it, Ara. I can’t believe our daughter is actually here—that you…” He looked at me, his eyes washing over my face and then moving down to my belly. “That you gave birth, by yourself. I just keep thinking how horrible, how terrifying that must have been. And then I think about the fact that I wasn’t there for you.”

  “It’s over now,” I said absently, kissing my sleeping beauty sweetly on the head. Her soft, fuzzy hair tickled my upper lip.

  “No, that’s post labour euphoria—you’re going to need some counselling, Ara—”

  “No. It’s just that none of the past matters now, David. Look.” I showed him our baby. “I went through Hell. And I was scared. And I felt more pain than I did when Jason tortured me. But we have a perfect little baby girl to show for it—so, like I said, nothing before her matters.”

  “But she’s not perfect.” He appeared behind me, startling me a little. “She’s… I don’t know. But there’s something… not right.”

  “Do you mean, aside from the fact that she has no soul?” I took a more purposeful look at her, rolling the blanket back a little to see her tiny, curled fist and the little creases where her fingers bent.

  “Don’t you see it—feel it?” he asked. “Ara, her eyes are black. And… I don’t know if it’s just first-time-dad syndrome, but I can’t…” His voice quivered as he motioned a hand forward to our baby. “I can’t hold her. I don’t feel anything for her.”

  I clicked my tongue, trying to find a way to make him understand. “If I dropped her right now, would y
ou put your hands out to catch her?”

  “Of course,” he said quickly. “What’s your point?”

  I angled the pretty, round little face to him as she opened her eyes, and sure enough, they were black as a deep hole—so cold and empty that I wasn’t sure then what I felt for her. “She has no soul, David—nothing to connect to. You might love her, care for her, protect her, but without that connection, the love has no real meaning. She won’t cry, because, without a soul, she has no hope, no will to survive. No need to fight. She doesn’t look at you, because she has no wonder for the world, no curiosity—she’s not looking to make connections. She’s an empty vessel.”

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?” He looked from her hollow eyes to mine. “You don’t seem to have a problem loving her.”

  I laughed, turning her in my arms again so she could look up at me or, rather, through me. I could see my reflection in her eyes and, strangely, for the first time ever in my life, I could also see my own reflection in the shape of her face. “I’m her mother, I guess that’s why it’s easy for me. And besides, you know me—I’ve always had a gift for loving things no one else seems to.”

  David smiled at that, relaxing enough to place his arm around me, his hand gently on my hip, leaning in a little. “She is beautiful, though.”

  “And she’ll be even more beautiful with a soul.”

  “Then, you’ve found a way,” he asked, stepping back a bit to look at me, his eyes spring-green with hope. “You can save her without taking another life?”

  I nodded, bringing the baby up to my face. Her skin felt warm and there was a softness to it I’d never felt before—not like silk or cotton—but more like perfect skin that had never seen a day of sun—never taken a breath of pollution, never experienced the turmoil of life. This was what innocence felt like, and I couldn’t keep from running my cheek slowly along hers. “We need to bring her to the forest—”

  “But she’s too new to take outside, she’ll—”

  “She’ll be warm there—in the presence of the Tree of Life.”