Chapter 24: Sound Behind Sound

Starfall, please remember that I am still here with you. Listen to me in your dreams, I know we must start from ground zero once more, but this is what I needed to do. The Fae-borne Necromancer, she can help. I am but a spirit once more, Starfall. My Moonborne Flower. She can relive the memories from my mind in ways you cannot. I suppose a gift, I suppose something we never thought was necessary.

Year of Wrath 1232, Season of life D.89 Ilgor

   With some effort, I managed to tune out the sound ringing in my ears as I locked eyes with Gjorn’s pallid face. “Well?” I said. “Who is Alnya? What are you hiding from me? Why are you helping my people so much? It surely can’t be out of goodwill for the downtrodden and marginalized.” 

   Hob looked down at me, thumb still on the hammer of the pistol, finger on the trigger. He helped me to my feet while a myriad of odd sounds filled my ears, lilts and crescendos, lifts and pitches in a song that was played over itself a hundred million times. “Focus, Illy,” I told myself. Even then, I could hear notes of a phantom song in everything now, playing their notes as they simply existed. 

   Gjorn got to his feet, clutching where his ribs were still bruised and battered. I wasn’t able to do much before Xelex had put that sphere around us. Even then, he intentionally excluded Gjorn from that entire conversation, the war he spoke about. The Quartet, the Song he stole from this woman named Alnya. He glossed over his part, for whatever these Shadows’ parts were in that conflict. 

   The sand crunched beneath my feet as I walked toward the Dwarf, “Not here, not now.” He huffed, clearly in pain. The fight with the Sorcerer was fast, a few seconds at most, eyeing the Dwarves up along the cliff edges with their weapons at rest. But the air was filled with that post-fight eagerness, like suddenly feeling still air after a sharp breeze. 

   “Why did you attack him?” Hob asked, a step behind me. I heard him holster the weapon, as the rest of the clan relaxed. Ears coming down, tensed muscles easing, a new note left the air as they did so, something I had never noticed before. But with it gone, I could no longer remember what it was. Hob offered him a hand to steady himself as Gjorn’s soldiers hurried down the stairs to tend to their King. 

   Despite his obvious pain, he refused the offered hand, standing on his own power as he wiped the blood from his mouth. “Xelex, for everything he is worth, is a devious creature.” He emphasized the term creature in an odd way. Looking at me, he added, “That was your teacher? The Sorcerer? No, I don’t need you to confirm, I did that on my own. That would make sense as to why you were given such a good education, all things considered.” 

   A few of his men had made it down the stairs and sprinted toward us. The sound of the surf and the breathing of the clan filled my ears, those odd phantom notes playing in every new sound. “I am going to need you to explain quite a bit,” I said with no small amount of authority, crossing my arms. I ignored the fact that my skin was changing texture due to how distracted I was. 

   Hob looked at me, noticing it too, but then again, so did Gjorn as his eyes flicked toward my arms and cheeks. “I’m sorry, Priestess. I need to report back to Alnya. That, for right now, is the only information I am giving you about who she is.”

   Hob’s eyes flicked up to him, as mine tried to root him to the spot. His men were only a few yards away when he seemingly sidestepped into nothing with an audible snap. He was gone a moment later, teleported away to some far-off place, just as the first of his soldiers reached us. Followed only seconds later by the deep roar of Halgier barking orders and commands to the soldiers from on top of the cliff. 

   I saw his head poke up from the face and look at me. He smiled with something like relief before a furious scowl planted itself on his face. He continued barking as his men filled him in on what had happened. Me? I turned with so much speed that my braid whipped out behind me as I walked back to where Azorez had been. She was gone too, closing my eyes as I clamped down on my focus like a hammer strike to hot metal on the anvil. 

   My skin stabilized, and the music of the world around me ceased as only the mundane sounds filled my ears. I wondered where they ran off to, but I at least knew Azorez would be back soon. Gjorn? He was always a bit of an open question; sometimes he was back quickly, sometimes he took his sweet time. I had learned that firsthand, besides the seemingly infinite amount of stories confirming that piece of information from the Dwarves. 

   Wherever Azorez had went, I was sure there was going to be a long discussion that followed. She had only ever done this a few times in the short time I had known her, but each time it came with a full lesson in either the arcane or some revelation of faith. She was strange, definitely a strange one. I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with her, though, as my feet waded into the water. 

   I raised a hand behind me to ward off any of the clan thinking of joining me out on the finger. I wanted to be away from everything for a moment.Thinking back on the conversation with the Sorcerer, Vilorlith, was all that really true? Had she really been delving into the ruins of this world to hunt down information for me? That was what Xelex had said, “It’s the only information I have at the moment. Still, it is nice to know she is still in here somewhere.” I thought to myself as the water went above my waist. 

   It was hours after the sun had set, watching as the stars moved slowly in the clear sky. “He had said that everything had a song, that each of the Quartet had their own Song. A grander thing focused around specific things.” I thought as a nebula swirled slowly overhead. As the night sky deepened its thick curtain of the heavens, lifting my ears wide, I listened. 

   Trying to find myself in that same space as I was inside that sphere, where I felt like nothing, where everything felt like a possibility rather than an absolute. Thinking about the strange things moving in the darkness of the void, I had a feeling that the void was reacting to me and Azorez rather than to the Sorcerer. Breathing deeply, focusing on the sound behind the sounds. 

   The sound of the surf against the finger, the sound of the clan behind me on the beach. The listless whoosh of the air in the sky, the distant sound it made as it hit the trees on the shore. After being told what I had been doing, humming my music into being, after watching what it did to the Song Xelex had presented to us. It felt more like I was trying to pull notes off a page rather than actually playing a song. I was simply forcing magic to obey rather than learning the song, like an arrogant bard who thought every song they made was gold when, in reality, they were the best way to clear the tavern each night. 

   So I listened, refusing to use magic the way I thought it worked. That note the Sorcerer had me play, that put a hole in his body, was proof enough of that. It was like understanding how an instrument worked, but being handed one was an entirely different story. It felt clumsy, amateur; it made every last piece of magic I had performed since Kari had begun teaching me feel incredibly insubstantial. 

   Falling deeper into that state, memories of doing this exact same meditation with Kari filled my mind. Feeling a sun that wasn’t there, feeling the comforting presence of a Mother that was long gone. The distant call of the nighttime birds flitting through the trees, the muffled movement of the fish beneath the waves. The clank of cookware inside the caves, the soft sound of the Family speaking amongst themselves. 

   The memory made me feel empty, “I’ll go pray at her grave again when I’m done here.” I told myself, forcing my attention away from my own thoughts. Listening closer to the distant echoes of the world, the faint chatter of the city of Glaion. The even quieter mechanical noise of the Dwarven military working on their machines and equipment in the night to avoid the eyes of Galus. The sound of clouds being pushed around by the winds high above the thermoclines, where the pressure would burst your eardrums. 

   A ship’s bell beyond the horizon, the distinct squawk of the Harpie Clans beyond the Ancient forest. The sound of the rocks tumbling down the mountains far behind me. Kari has always told me that it had been years since she lived with someone capable of listening to happenings as far as I could. She told me that when I was just a young girl. I shook my head to clear the memory, that wasn’t why I was out here. 

   A stranger sound coming from somewhere past where the air stopped high above, like a low groan of some leviathan. The sounds past the atmosphere always intrigued me; even Kari couldn’t hear that far, but she thought it might have been the sound of the Nebulas so high above. Without a ladder to the heavens, I supposed I would never know. Pushing even further away, various disturbing things met my senses. 

   Something that sounded like a low scream that felt more like a hum, something that came in pulses at increasingly regular intervals. The distinct sound of dust colliding with itself. Another pulse that was far deeper than anything else, like it was trying to consume the other sound around it. A rhythm came to mind. 

   A rhythm I could understand, a series of descending notes, a pitch back up, a backdrop to the crescendo. Shaping the movement of the skies above, without breaking my focus from the song, I repeated it back to the skies. Like something had stopped to listen to me, something great and mighty, but for the briefest moment it stopped. Waiting until I had stopped. Nothing happened, no grand movement of heavens, no Nebulas twisting into new shapes, no comets arcing through the skies. “Getting pretty full of yourself, Illy,” I told myself, knowing that nothing was listening to me. 

   Casting my ears for the horizon, searching for a storm that was surely happening somewhere on this vast place. Not a moment later, I heard the muffled boom of lightning and thunder. A shaper note, a quick chord, that was all there was to it. It surprised me with how simple it was, making me feel foolish at the big performances I made summoning storms before. Getting drunk on my own arrogance that I was controlling something as potent as a storm without ever understanding what I was doing. 

   Bringing myself back to center, the world around me snapped into focus. The sound of the waves, the feeling of the wind on my face. Humming softly, I felt the song of the world pause to listen, repeating that storm’s chord. Lightning danced across my fingers as I let the final note linger in the air. 

   “I wonder why you choose things related to the sky,” Vilorlith spoke inside my mind. 

Year of Wrath 1232, Season of life D.89 Azorez

   This song, this glorious song! In the earth, in the rot of the trees, in the decaying matter of each swamp and pool of muck! In the bones of each small animal I spotted in the filtered light of the Ancient Forest. Like someone had lifted the veil away from my eyes, blending the spirit and material worlds I had always known! 

   Martha floated next to me, her dead eyes furrowed in concern. The milkiness in them was filled with yet another chord I could hear. “Mar! Can you hear this? It makes so much sense now! A Song is a facet of reality; that song is what controls all this. I don’t understand how to use it yet, but I can hear it!” 

   Mar’s voice sounded far more distant than it usually did, her words drawn out as if time moved more slowly for her. “This song, I have always heard it. I thought you did too. I never mentioned it.” 

   Focusing her magic into my hands, grabbing my sister’s spirit by the shoulders with a maniacal glee. “What Ilgor has been talking about, what Gjorn has been hinting at, I think I am understanding it now. Music is magic.” 

   “Then you should hear the chords played when something dies.” I let her go quickly, a look of disgust crossing my face. “It isn’t like anything else. I know you dislike that part of your power, but I think it will help.” 

   “Do I really need to watch something die? Dealing with the aftermath of their spirits can be too much. Must I really suffer the moment it happens as well?” I asked her. Her lantern appeared in her hand the next moment. I shut my mouth, knowing Mar was serious. 

   “Do me a favor, dear sister, before your living ears are clouded with the Waking Dream once more, and listen to what is singing this song,” Mar told me while she floated off into the distance, presuming that she was hunting for something near death. 

   Following her, I tried to pay attention to the chiming happening around me. A crop of mushrooms stood out to me, stopping to listen. A rhythm made itself known, not from the mushrooms themselves, but from whatever was beneath the earth they were feeding on. It was quiet, it was subtle. Almost as if it were trying to hide behind a different song, its notes seemed like something that was being played in a mirror key, but different. 

   The small, fragile skulls of mice, squirrels, and other creatures called out with a single note. Again, even though it was there, it still felt like something that was desperately trying not to be heard. As if it resented being forced to be heard by anything. Like a timid child, but practiced enough to be relentless. 

   The decaying leaves on the ground made a similar sound, but it seemed to be different for plants and animals; the plants were a different note entirely. As my feet crunched the leaves under me, I tried to listen to the whole thing instead of trying to focus on something in particular. Not the best tactics when you are trying to see the forest through the trees. 

   Mar appeared in front of me, silent as the night turned to day. She simply pointed to something just over the hill, making a gesture as if I should hurry. Quickening my pace as the massive oaks passed by like lumbering giants, cresting the hill, it didn’t take me long to find what Mar had found. A squirrel that had fallen from a tree, its breath coming in shallow heaves. I had to fight the instinct to just heal it, ease its pain. 

   “Simply watch it expire, do not interrupt her song,” Mar said quickly. While she couldn’t exactly interact with the world in many ways, she avoided touching most things. In this moment, she was sitting cross-legged while floating a fraction of an inch above the actual ground, staring down at the dying creature. 

   I didn’t like the way she said it, but then again, when she had existed this entire time as a spirit, she supposed the loss of life wasn’t something that bothered her much. “Her song?” My voice made the squirrel panic, as it spasmed on the ground, unable to move. Something had broken its hind leg, and it was bleeding from various wounds. It had survived a fight, just to die in front of something that could have saved it. 

   Mar only stared at me with those milky eyes, saying nothing. Focusing, I listened to the song around me; it wasn’t exactly mournful, nor was it cheerful. It, to my ears, seemed to be entirely made of slow, calculated rhythm and entirely in minor keys. They moved in overlapping structures that made it difficult to pick apart without the rest of the song being nonsense at the same time. 

   I felt the tether of life begin to unwind itself from the animal, its little claws scraping at the ground as if trying to anchor itself to the world it knew. There was a shift in the music, and I almost missed it as the squirrel stopped breathing. The notes of the song were being played with an actual voice. While there was no real change to the song as the animal’s organs began shutting down one by one, starting with its brain, then its heart. The song felt slightly more personal with an actual voice behind it.

   It was decidedly feminine, but not in a human way. I could almost place a finger on it, but as I tried to call to it, it vanished back into its previous flow state. Its previous sound returned without any thought of anything listening to it. “What was that?” I asked Mar. 

   “That was her.” She said unhelpfully. 

   “Who is her?” I pressed harder, letting her feel my own annoyance. 

   “The singer. She actually speaks when what dies has a comprehending mind.” Mar’s eyes said everything I needed to know. 

   “No, I am not watching someone die. If it is within my power to save them, I will. It is my duty to help those who linger to move past the Shores Beyond, not send them there myself.” Standing up, I tried to repeat the sound of the note coming from the corpse of the squirrel. I matched it perfectly, but nothing happened. So I did it again, and again, trying to match it perfectly. 

   Mar only watched from her sitting position as something occurred to me. Remembering what happened to the Song that Xelex had shown us when Illy used magic anywhere near it. Repeating the notes again, it felt like something was listening to me now. The Song I was hearing sounded like someone who had spotted a stranger watching them, but walking on anyway without acknowledging they had seen. 

   I repeated the rhythm of the Song I could remember back to the open air as a few mushrooms sprouted from where I stood. That part of the music paused, letting me fill in where it had been. The moment I stopped, it began again. Pulling from the air the magic I was used to, I opened a rift through the veil between the Waking Dream and the Dreaming Dream. 

   Filling my lungs, I sang the small pieces of the song into the rift. Over and over, until I lost myself in the music. No, it wasn’t cheerful, no, it wasn’t mournful, it was patient and sweet. It was peaceful in the end. Tearing the rift larger, Mar finally joined me, helping me open it further. A small risk, as restless spirits could always return that hadn’t moved on. But the more we pulled the barrier away from the world, the stronger the song got. 

   When the sun had set, and the moon began to rise over the sea, did the song start to be sung by a voice again. “Please, speak to me, spirit. Let this soul beyond its vessel reach out and help you.” I told it, as if it were just another lost soul needing help. 

The song paused only for the smallest moment before continuing. “Please, let me hear your voice! Please let me be the stones in the creek to guide the water back to the sea. Let me be the shade beneath the tree, let me be the light to guide you through the night.” I pleaded with it again. 

   The song stopped this time, like an odd juxtaposition of broken glass and earth. The song continued to play in the Waking Dream, but not in the Dreaming \Dream. The song was silent on the other side of the rift. Mar glanced over at me, worry creasing her brows. Clearly, she had never heard the song just stop before, but even still, I worked at pulling the rift wider while letting the Dreaming Dream know I had every intention of shutting the rift. 

   “Please, just speak to me. I know you are something like what the Quartet did now. Are you a god? The Quartet made their Songs for all of creation to exist. Your Song has power over death, please just speak to me.” My skin was starting to bead with sweat from the effort of keeping such a large rift open. 

   A voice echoed out from between worlds. A feminine, lilting thing. One that felt weighty beyond comprehension. “Odd, a living soul should never have been able to hear this song. Even the immortal beings of my Mother’s ilk shouldn’t even be able to hear this. Are you one of my Necromancers?” 

   A shock ran down my spine, rooting me to the spot. Like ice filling my veins, I never thought the voice would actually answer me. “I am a Necromancer, do I belong to you?” 

   The voice in the Dreaming Dream was silent for a long moment before answering. “You are my shepherd. You do not harvest, you guide. I am happy to hear that you have taken the lessons of death to heart. A place of peace, a place to rest. There is no fear in death, only sanctuary.” 

   “My Lady, I’m sorry, I do not know how to address you, but who are you? You are a new god to me, just like the Quartet is to me.”

   “You are right to assume that I am a new god. But this is a conversation we should be having when you have joined me. Please close this rift. I have made my song the way I have for a reason. I cannot risk being heard by the Shadows, child. I am sorry, but we need to end this conversation. Just know that I am proud to hear so much about you, Azorez. You have helped many souls.” With her last words, something behind the veil snatched my control away from me like a Mother taking a toy away from a child. Final. 

   I fell back, sitting hard. Mar only sat in front of me, milky eyes fixed on mine. “You know what she is; you knew all of this?” I asked her. 

   She nodded, “There are many things I cannot tell you, dear sister. Her name, what she is, what she is doing. All among them. Just know that what she is doing is colossal in nature, and unanimously approved of by the dead.” 

   “When did you first meet her?” I asked, letting my shoulders slump at her answer. 

   “I cannot remember. I was dead in our Mother’s womb, a lifeless life born to a world that would not take me, yet I remain. I have only ever spoken to her once. I vaguely remember a smile, a kindness that I didn’t think could possibly exist. I remember she sent back through the Shores Beyond to remain by your side. This is the second time I have ever heard her speak that wasn’t the song she sings.” 

   “She mentioned the Shadows, a name that isn’t known about to just anyone. Xelex is a Shadow, he admitted as much. As well as being accused by Gjorn, if she thinks they are dangerous, maybe even enemies, she must be related to the Quartet in some way. She said her Mother’s ilk when talking about immortals. A new god.” I rambled off to myself more than to Mar, who only sat silently with the stillness that one could only find in the dead. 

   Looking back at Mar, I asked. “Do you think she could be prayed to? Could she answer in the same way that the other gods can?”

   “Maybe, but it's more likely to get blood from a stone. She speaks to no one until they are on the Shores Beyond, until they are entirely within the Dreaming Dream. I’m surprised she spoke to you at all; you must have startled her.” 

Year of Wrath 1232, Season of life D.89 Neaves

   With a simple wave of the hand, Azu disappeared in a haze that vanished utterly in the dark night air. Syn stepped forward, pulling me into a tight embrace. “I did not wish for you in that space with her for so long; she didn’t hurt you, did she?"

   She was much taller than I, I realized. Stammering out while I returned her embrace, careful not to touch the stumps where her wings used to be. “I was fine, Mother. There is just a lot to absorb. I had no idea I was supposed to be listening to some song. All my magic felt instinctual. Sure, sometimes I had to think about what I wanted to do, but this is something very different.” 

   Letting me go, a hand still on my shoulder, I got the feeling that she just wanted to touch something. “Yes, it is more complicated than that. But I will help you through the simplest lessons. Though I must insist that you forget what Afjie has taught you. Her knowledge is flawed, and will run counter to what I will teach you.” 

   “Before that, I want to ask something.” 

   Syn gave me a go-ahead gesture. “What is the void? When Azu was explaining it, she said it was a beginning, something that responded to the wishes and thoughts of those who exist in it.” 

   She tapped her lips with a finger; her antlers framed her face in a way that made her look far more serious, even with blank expressions. Her bare chest rose and fell with each breath as she thought. Eyeing the stumps on her back, the way they connected to the rest of her body. Involuntarily, I scratched where my wings connected to my back; they were tiny compared to hers. Her wings must have been a glorious thing to behold. 

   “The void, I suppose you call it a beginning, but it never left. You cannot fill the void. I think I would have described it more like an empty table. You may place whatever you want on it, but it is still there. You may change the shape of that table, add to it, take it away, but it remains. The void is where we all come from.” Syn said. 

   “As in we the Quartet, or we as in everything?” I asked. 

   “Yes.”

   That gave me something to wonder about, Azu claimed she also came from it. Well, at least what she originally came from did anyway. The same with Xelex if she was telling me the truth about him and her chasing the same goal. “May we begin, Mother?” I was restless; the sunrise was far off still. The slight purple tint to the horizon told me as much. 

   She took my hand again, walking through the trees until the hill fell away in a small cliff overlooking the eastern horizon. She sat on the edge, beckoning me to join her. Flaring my wings out so I wouldn’t sit on them, I joined her. She took one of my wings in her hands, examining the scales on it. “You have been working on them, I see. That’s good. Much like how a singer must practice their voice, so too must your scales catch the light with adjustments.” 

   “I’m assuming you are about to teach me something about my body, again,” I asked, setting my head in my palm as I watched her turn my wing in her hand. 

   “Unlike Azu, I do actually see you as my child, so I am going to ignore the vulgarity in that statement.” Her words had a slight bite to them, like Afjie’s did when she thought I was being a bit much at times. “I insist that you treat me with a bit more respect. I am not your friend, I am your Mother. Well, Mother to all your people anyway. Besides,” 

   With a burst of flame, she bathed my wing in a golden fire, which stung as if being swarmed by wasps, jerking my wing back out of her hands. “What was that for?” I yelled, exasperated. “I’m sorry for my wording. I didn’t think you would try to hurt me.” 

   “Look at your wing.” She said with a sternness that wouldn’t be brokered with.

   Where she had bathed it in fire, the scales were different. They were smaller where the fire hadn’t touched. Placing a finger to the surface, they felt harder too. The flesh below them had already ceased stinging; they felt warmer. “I don’t understand. I thought crumpling them was enough?”

   “Our wings are not insectile, fragile things; our wings are conduits for light of every kind. Right now, your wings are tuned to visible light; that area where I worked is now working with a deeper red than you can actually see. Infrared light.” She began, but held up her hand quickly enough to stop the questions already coming to my lips. 

“The scales on your wings are not calcareous or cartilaginous like other creatures. They are crystalline, and crystalline structures can be changed with heat and pressure. The damage to your wings improves the flesh below to increase the flow of power through them, the scales improve and change what light you can work with. Too much of a single kind of light only makes you useful at specific things.” 

   “So what does this have to do with music? I thought you had a song.” Something else came to mind as I thought about it. “My wings burn when I’m not focusing on suppressing it; they glow bright with fire, so how come that doesn’t change my scales?” 

   “They don’t work like that; that is the ambient energy in them being released. Bathing them in fire, the way I did, is external and changes their properties that way. Beyond that, I want you to think about something. Do you think all music is audible?” Syn asked helpfully. 

   I thought about that, sitting with her in silence as the horizon turned from deep purple to the hazy red of predawn light. Is all music audible? Does a song need to have true notes to be a song? If it did, I didn’t understand what that could be. That conclusion came to my mind as the dawn cracked across the sky. “I don’t understand, Mother.” 

   “Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I’ve been away from my shackle that I was lost in this brief freedom.” Syn said wistfully, glancing back at me, she caught the horror in my eyes. “Oh, I’d rather not get into that, Darling. No, not today. She keeps me safe, she lets me heal from… The song, let's talk about that.” Syn said quickly. 

   “Alright, let’s not ask what their relationship actually is then. I guess some things are universal, even with the gods.” I thought to myself. 

   “Feel the light on your wings, even the faintest thing. Think of your wings like a drum; even a strong breeze can make a bassy note on a big enough drum. My song is a warmth, a push and pull. It is as much a dance as it is music. Open your wings and concentrate everything on that feeling.” She told me. 

   Shutting out the world to my mind, I put all my attention on my wings as the sun began to rise over the horizon. The warmth of the light flooded them, like a slow yawn; they grew warm. Drinking in the sensation, enough to feel the small thermals being created from the heat coming off them. I felt the blood move in the thin flesh, the electric tingle of each minuscule twitch of muscle. The static numbness of holding a muscle tensed for too long, the strain, however slight, on the tendons connecting my wings to my back. 

   As the light grew brighter, the sensations only got more powerful. This didn’t seem right to me, like I was missing the point. Focusing on the wrong thing, like watching the sea when I was supposed to be watching the waves. Did my scales actually feel something? I tried to shift my attention to what my scales were feeling; the nerves at the base of each one were dim. 

   I suppose that made sense to me; we shed our scales when we bathed, or they fell out on their own. It made sense that they didn’t feel much. But the more I focused on it, the more I felt something new. Trying to open my wings even more, stretching them as if they really were drums, I felt something. Like little motes of light, or how the mountain felt when it rained. 

   Millions of little dots of feeling struck my wings at regular intervals. A rhythm came to mind the more I focused on it. I drummed my fingers to it on my thighs. I felt Syn grow happy with me without even needing to look at her. The longer I listened with my wings, the more intricate the song got. The rhythm blurring over others as the sky grew brighter. Though I felt something else where fire had so recently bathed my wing. 

   A different rhythm was hitting it. It was slower, steadier than the chaotic beat that the sun was making. Where the light reflected off everything else, the beat repeated itself. I stopped drumming on my thighs. Focusing on where the scales had been changed. I laughed suddenly, “Scales being changed. What a shitty pun, Mother.” 

   Syn smiled, the feeling shifted as she got up and moved to my other side. The feeling of that other rhythm moving with her, it stayed the same, it just changed direction. The beat again was drummed on my thighs to the flow that was coming from Syn. ‘That’s it.” She said softly. “You are beginning to understand. Music without notes.” 

   Opening my eyes again, the sun was well over the horizon now. The sea of grass at the bottom of the cliff waved in a slight breeze, the forest behind us chiming as the wind blew through the branches. “Now, think of the feeling of that beat from the sun, and think about it in your hand. Unlike my sister’s children, sound isn’t necessarily needed for my song.” 

No sooner had I thought about it did a small ball of light appear in my hand; it was blinding. Releasing it as soon as it appeared, Syn giggled in a girlish way that made me pause. “It has been so long since I have seen my song played again, I’m proud of you, Neaves!” 

   She wrapped her arms around me, with my face pressed between her breasts. I felt like a child next to her; she really was a lot bigger than me. “So, when do I get antlers?” I asked as my voice vibrated between those far too hot mounds.

   “Oh, that.” She pulled me away from her chest as I sucked in a breath of air. “I’m not sure, you are still infected, so many of your abilities and physicalities are locked away.” 

   “Infected?” 

   “Unimportant at the moment, from what I have heard from Azu, the Goblin woman you are hunting may be able to help with that in time. But as for now, one final thing. Your pyromancy, as you call it, you will still be able to use it, but it is a crude thing that only the young faeries dabble in. As your control over the song furthers, you will find fire is very brute force. All you are doing is willing the light you have collected to burst from you in a way you want it to. I shouldn’t have to explain much to you; bursts have force involved; for each reaction, there is one that opposes it with equal force. Heat and whatnot.” Syn said quickly, as a figure appeared at the edge of the woods. 

   Azu had returned from wherever the hell she disappeared to.