by L. Penelope
Darvyn stopped breathing. Kyara was afraid he might have had a stroke. This was a lot of information to absorb all at once. A look was shared between the two men. Darvyn’s lips moved, mouthing the word, “Please.”
Kyara had no time to object to his giving up his life as well. Before she could form the words to protest, there was a flash of light, almost imperceptible it went by so quickly. In its wake, Fenix observed Darvyn expectantly.
“It’s done?” he asked.
“It’s done,” Fenix said.
Darvyn stretched out his arms and turned his hands palm up, then down. “I don’t really feel any different.”
Fenix chuckled. “Give it time, give it time.”
He truly didn’t seem any different to her eyes, however, sinking into her other sight made things clearer. Instead of the barely visible speck of Nethersong he usually manifested as, Darvyn was present. Not quite the substantial form Fenix displayed, more like a ghostly apparition of himself.
Kyara shuttered her vision, focusing back in on the real world. “Darvyn, I—I’m not asking you to do this with me.”
“You don’t have to. There’s no place for me here,” he echoed her words from a few moments ago. “Not without you.”
She grabbed Darvyn’s hand and pulled him closer. “Are you sure you want this? It won’t be life the way you know it. I’m not sure it will really be life at all.”
He palmed her cheek with a hand. “But it will be with you. And that’s all that matters.”
Loss and pain, that was almost all she’d ever known. But she knew love now, too. Her Song had brought nothing but misery for so long, now it gave her a purpose beyond just taking life, she could help to protect it.
Tears filled her eyes as Darvyn wrapped his arms around her. Though she couldn’t imagine what her existence in the World After would be like, at least she would not be alone.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Loneliness and heartache tend to swell
when the clamor of the solo drowns out the
polyphony. You would do well to bid them both
farewell.
And lift your voice.
—THE HARMONY OF BEING
Mooriah was not good with good-byes. As Kyara and Darvyn explained to the others where they planned to go and why, she had no desire for a drawn-out farewell. King Jaqros had arrived with all the desperation of a man separated from his wife during a calamity. He was also a longtime friend of Darvyn’s and was having trouble understanding where his friend was headed and why he had to leave at all. Mooriah left it to the others to fill him in; she wandered to the side of the plaza out of earshot of the rest of them.
One wing of the hospital was discharging funnels of smoke. Someone—a wraith no doubt—had thrown a truck into the side of the building and while the fire had been put out, the wreckage smoldered on. The rest of the building was usable, though without electricity. However, it would be empty soon as Earthsingers were still filing in, volunteering to heal the injured.
The uncomfortable press of this modern city had not grown any easier for Mooriah to manage. She’d spent weeks back in this world and part of her had actually been eager to return to the meditative stillness of the World After. Though having someone to share it with like Kyara did would have been agreeable.
Her dear husband had passed into the Flame, as he should have. Now he was at peace. She would not have asked him to forego that on her account, though he no doubt would have.
She stood at the edge of a concrete barrier, separating the plaza from the street several steps below. Her back was to the hospital and though she did not hear the footsteps approaching her, she felt his presence when he arrived. For a long time, he just stood behind her, observing the city or observing her, she could not say.
“Will you go to the Flame now?” Fenix finally asked.
“The Flame holds as little appeal to me as it ever did. But I have no other options. I cannot resist for much longer. Its pull grows stronger now that peace has returned and my reasons for fighting it are gone.”
“Hmm.” The centuries had not changed the annoying habit he had of humming in response to things. But she’d taken note of other changes. He was not the same irreverent, headstrong, selfish man she’d once helped escape captivity. Part of her missed that version of him, but he had come into the potential she’d seen in him all those years ago, and for that she was grateful.
“Speak plainly, man,” she snapped to hide the burst of sentimentality she could not acknowledge.
He chuckled. “You have grown, too. No longer a shrinking violet.”
She spun around. “I was never a shrinking violet.”
“Yet you weren’t always this shrewish harridan.”
She narrowed her eyes, and he smiled. She turned away again, hissing under her breath.
“What if there was another way?”
She clucked her tongue. “There is death and the Flame, what other way?”
“You could come with me.” He spoke so quietly she wasn’t certain she’d heard him properly. He stepped fully into her periphery.
“To your world? How?”
“There are ways.”
“But I remember you saying—”
“I know. It will not be easy but it is possible.” He was quiet for a time, letting her consider before speaking again. “Is that something you would want?”
She had seen little of the world in her lifetime, and while she had no regrets for the life she had led, the possibility of the unknown still pulled at her, just as it always had.
Could she take what he offered?
“Your parents have arrived,” Fenix said. She turned around to find Oola and Yllis clustered with the others.
Mooriah sighed and made her way back to the group, Fenix’s offer ricocheting around her brain. It would cost him something to take her with him—cost him any chance of returning to this world, she suspected. Would it be worth it?
Oola and Yllis stood side by side amidst the chatter and tears of Kyara and Darvyn’s explanations. The two were studiously ignoring one another, though their shoulders were touching.
Mooriah chuckled at the sight of them. Stubborn until the end. “Can you bring them, too?” The words were spoken before she’d considered the implications, but they felt right. She hadn’t had the chance to get to know her mother. Or her father for that matter. Not really. And the two of them had been torn apart by war and guilt and probably other things she had no idea of. None of them belonged in this world any longer—their jobs here were done. If their options were the Flame or Fenix’s mysterious home, then the choice was infinitely easier. What he was really offering was more time.
“Is my mother bound in some way, too? Could she survive the trip?”
“Not in her current form, but as a spirit she could—the same as you.” Fenix’s gaze was a physical force on her skin, but she still avoided looking directly at him.
“Would it … harm you to bring them?”
He paused. “There would be no permanent damage.” So, yes. But he would if she asked.
Oola looked over at her, a question in the woman’s gaze. Mooriah faced Fenix, standing just out of earshot of the group. His intense attention burned into her, sparking like a fireball. “And you do not mind?”
“I have waited lifetimes for you. The cost is nothing in comparison.”
“Neither of us are the same people we once were. We would need to get to know one another again.”
“In this new lifetime.”
She swallowed as something in her middle fluttered. She turned away, cheeks hot. It looked like she would have to say her good-byes after all.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
It is enough to just be
quiet
and
listen.
—THE HARMONY OF BEING
The number of people pressed into Rosira’s northern temple must be in violation of some sort of fire code. Zeli stood at the front of the only Sisterh
ood temple still standing in the city—the southern one had been destroyed by terrorists and the eastern one pulled down by the hands of the wraiths. The joyous anticipation inside the walls was like effervescence, popping and fizzing in the air. She inhaled it deeply.
“Who are all of these people?” Varten whispered to her, craning his neck to take in the crowd.
She shrugged. “It was an open invitation, and everyone needs a reason to celebrate.”
The audience had dressed in their finest clothes to come here today and experience some joy again. On the raised platform in front of them was a table holding several tiny glass bowls and a larger empty one. A small candle flickered inside one of the smaller bowls. Varten had described the Elsiran marriage ceremony to her and she liked the symbolism of it all.
Only a handful of Sisters stood behind the platform. The order had been devastated by the questions about the Goddess Awoken and Her possible allegiance to the True Father. Her disappearance after his death had made the rumors swell. That added to the imprisonment and upcoming execution of the former High Priestess had left the organization in shambles. Zeli was not certain they would survive—but maybe out of it something new would be born.
A hush came over the crowd and then a low chant began. All the Raunians in attendance—and there were so many she wondered if there was anyone left on the island at all—began to sing, their voices rising in a lilting melody. Ani emerged from a door behind the platform and climbed the short steps. She was radiant in a voluminous gown made of iridescent blue material that left her arms and shoulders bare.
She wore a matching glove on her single hand, and a ribbon tied around her other arm where it ended below the elbow. Roshon approached the platform from the opposite direction, grinning from ear to ear. He wore a sharply cut formal suit and looked comfortable in it. Queen Jasminda and King Pia arrived last, making the small stage quite crowded.
Darvyn and Kyara had agreed to delay their departure until after the nuptials. They stood with Dansig, King Jaqros, Tai, and Lizvette in the front row.
Tears formed in Zeli’s eyes, she loved weddings. The Elsiran and Raunian ceremonies were held simultaneously. The Elsiran one involved transferring the contents of each small bowl into the larger one. The Raunian service involved lots of knot tying and a series of call and responses in their language—some of which involved the whole audience. Zeli stumbled over the pronunciations of the words, without any clue as to what she was saying, but the love and hope of everyone present rippled through her Song.
When it was done, the bride and groom stayed at the front to receive their guests, another Raunian tradition. Their families were at the front of the line, and she followed Varten, who hugged his brother and new sister fiercely before stepping back.
Zeli placed a wrapped gift into Roshon’s hand. Wedding presents weren’t part of Elsiran custom, but they were important in Lagrimar.
“Open it,” Varten said, grinning. His brother peeled back the paper and opened the box to reveal the little figurine of two boys with their arms hooked into one another’s—the same one the twins had been fighting over when Zeli met them.
“I decided you can have it,” Varten said.
“I decided that it would be a good wedding gift,” Zeli said, elbowing him. Varten shrugged and chuckled.
“Thank you,” Roshon said, holding it gently, and Ani beamed.
“Maybe we’ll give it back to you when you two get married,” she said.
Zeli’s face grew hot. From the corner of her eye she saw Varten’s jaw drop then snap shut. He nodded. “Deal.”
Then he grabbed Zeli’s hand and moved off, allowing the next person in line their chance to greet the newlyweds. She had questions, lots of questions, but she couldn’t voice them as they worked their way through the throng and to the temple’s exit.
Outside, masses of people queued up to get their chance to greet the prince and princess.
“Marriage?” she finally asked, brows raised as they stood on the temple’s front steps.
He looked sheepish. “Well, you know … I mean that is if you want … Well, the thing is. I love you, Zeli. And I do want to marry you. If you’ll have me. One day. I mean we—”
She silenced him with a kiss, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down. His arms encircled her waist and for a moment, she forgot where she was. Though the air was frigid, Zeli was quite warm. She breathed him in, losing herself in the softness of his lips, and the heat of his body pressed against hers.
Finally she pulled away and gasped for breath. “I love you, too, Your Grace. And I would be delighted to marry you.”
Varten blinked slowly. “Really? Maybe once all the hubbub dies down. Wouldn’t want to steal any of their thunder, you know?” He gave her a cautious glance. “I mean, Ani and Roshon were engaged for years, so there’s no rush. Unless you wanted to rush. Or not.”
She kissed him again, delighting in the feel of him against her. She was so full of hope and joy, it was very possible she might burst.
A chattering trio of women moving past bumped into Zeli, reminding her that they were still on the temple’s front stairs. She took Varten’s hand and they descended.
At the bottom of the steps, a small group of women in Sisterhood robes appeared to be arguing with a couple of rough-looking Elsiran men. Zeli tugged on Varten’s hand and motioned toward the commotion. In wordless agreement, they approached.
“The Goddess abandoned us,” one of the men spat, flinging his arms wide. “Why don’t you take those robes off and admit the truth—She was just a charlatan, a hypocrite witch who didn’t give a rat’s arsehole about any of us.”
The half-dozen women being accosted looked weary. Though they still wore the uniform, they seemed lost—Zeli’s Song revealed deep wells of emptiness and sorrow within them. Like they were just going through the motions without any other notion of what to do. She recognized most of them—once she’d hoped they’d be her family, now she felt sorry for them.
“The Goddess’s teachings are still a balm in times of need,” one Sister was saying. “They are timeless and Her presence or absence makes little difference in their power.”
The Elsiran man shook his head, grumbling along with his fellows. “I went to temple every week for practically my whole life. Thirty-five years of faith, of believing in Her. And now what? Now we’re left with nothing.” His anger masked deep hurt and loss. Zeli could understand his grief—it was shared by so many of the faithful. What to do when that faith is betrayed?
She moved closer. “What was it about being a follower of the Goddess that brought you comfort?” she asked the man.
The entire group looked at her sharply, surprised at her interruption. She didn’t feel the need to apologize for intruding, the desire to help was strong within her. “All of Her wisdom, all of Her guidance, it hasn’t gone anywhere. It wasn’t even unique or specific to Her. Who among you had the Dream?” Two of the men nodded as well as one of the Sisters.
“Was what She told you in the Dream so profound? Or was it your belief in Her and your joy at being one of the chosen that made it all the more impactful?”
The faces staring at her frowned with confusion. “I served the Goddess, too. I believed in Her. But now I look back and wonder, what exactly was it that we believed in?” She turned to the lead Elsiran man.
“What was it that made you go to the temple every week?”
His brow wrinkled. “Faith. Duty.”
“Anything else?”
“My family.” He shrugged. “Our neighbors. It’s what we did, slept there once a week, hoping for a Dream.”
“Did it make you feel like you belonged to something bigger? Like you had a way of battling hardships and pain?”
He thought for a moment and then agreed. “It brought me peace.”
“And where did the peace come from?” Zeli pushed.
He shook his head.
“Where has it gone?” she asked. She
took in the gathered group, which seemed to have grown. “Inside of you. It’s all there. That’s where all feelings come from. Having a Song means that I can sense your despair and your delight, and everything in between. I can feel it growing and shrinking, and I promise you that these emotions don’t originate from anywhere other than inside each of you.”
Her listeners were rapt. “There is a voice within you that whispers quietly. It causes your skin to pebble when you walk a dark alley alone. It resonates with accomplishment when you help a neighbor to bear a burden. It sings in harmony when you meet the love of your life. We are very, very good at not listening to this voice. We want verification from outside of us—from goddesses or queens. We are convinced that someone knows better, that we cannot trust ourselves and so we turn without when we should look within.
“The Goddess’s teachings struck a chord with that inner voice. It is what made you feel that creating community with your family and neighbors brought joy. That giving to charity and helping those in need was the right thing to do. The Book of Her Reign may say, ‘It is no burden for those with plenty to spread their excess among those who lack’ but you believe it because of that voice inside. If the book told you that stabbing your mother was the way to achieve the Dream would you have done it?”
The man recoiled. Several others grumbled, affronted at the thought. Zeli spread her hands. “You don’t have to be lost. You just have to find yourself.”
One of the Sisters turned to her, appearing pensive. “I know your voice, it’s so familiar.”
Others murmured in agreement and Zeli pressed her lips shut. Should she reveal that it was her voice in their heads during the attack? They’d all heard her, but she wasn’t certain she should bring it up. Perhaps that should continue to be a mystery.