CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Who suffers if a bird’s call goes unheard?

Are they chirping into the emptiness?

Does the Void swallow their voice or

do they sing

because they have a song?

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

The first step in learning to master Nethersong, according to Murmur, was to commune with the Mother. Kyara held herself back from issuing a snide retort when he said this, but still wondered how exactly one went about communing with a mountain. Mooriah was evidently attuned to her mood and shot her a censorious glare. Kyara held her hands up; she hadn’t said a thing.

At Murmur’s insistence, the Nethersingers would have their lessons in a cave set high in the large chamber of the underground city. Ella and Ulani were able to watch from a ledge a level above, but, according to the ancient man, couldn’t be in the same room.

Ella agreed to this, as she still had a line of sight on her daughter. And Kyara silently vowed to protect Tana from any surprises that should crop up along the way. She eyed Murmur warily as he led them to their new classroom.

Inside the small cave, the temperature was almost uncomfortably warm. A fire had been set up in the center of the space and some sort of herb was burning, making the air smell sweet. However, a thick humidity hung around them, so different from the rest of the city.

There was little furniture, just a few woven mats around the fireplace and some chipped pottery. A cistern in the corner collected water from a slow drip down a long, pointed rock formation hanging from the ceiling.

Once she, Mooriah, Tana, and Murmur were seated on the mats around the fire, Murmur instructed them to close their eyes. “Open yourself to the embrace of the Mother,” he said in a droning voice. “Quiet your will and she will invite you in.”

Kyara had never tried to meditate before. In Lagrimar, the Avinids—a fringe group who worshipped the Void—were proponents of the practice, and that was enough to keep her far away from it. But Mooriah claimed that being embraced by the Mother was as easy for a Nethersinger as connecting to her power.

“It should be like using your other sight,” the woman said, which for Kyara was as simple as changing her shoes. Even entering the World Between had not proved truly difficult, now that she knew she could. It required focus, but she found it similar to tying a complicated knot. Listening to the Mother, however, was not so easy.

She tried to relax her body and soften her will, but that just made her feel droopy and boneless. She attempted to empty her mind, but the effort gave her a mild headache. Frustrated, she repositioned herself on the flat mat, which provided no cushioning against the hard stone beneath.

Something in the cave sizzled, and she opened her eyes to find Murmur sprinkling a powder onto the fire that caused the flames to pop and hiss. The thick air grew smoky and the sweet smell intensified.

Kyara’s eyelids grew heavy; her body turned weightless, like she was flying. She struggled against the sensation—Murmur was drugging them. Anger fought its way to the surface; she couldn’t let herself succumb. Then her limbs were suddenly dense, made of lead, and she was falling.

When she was finally able to open her eyes, the cave was completely dark. “Hello?” she called out, disoriented. When she got her hands on Murmur, she was going to throttle his old jelly neck.

She could actually sense her physical body, still seated on the ground in the cave, but whatever or wherever she was now, was different. Weightless, she had the odd disconnected sensation of both sitting and standing at the same time.

“Kyara?” Tana’s voice held fear.

“I’m here.” Kyara didn’t see anything at first, and then the girl appeared beside her, a slightly ghostly sheen to her the only thing to indicate that she wasn’t a physical presence. Mooriah and Murmur became visible a moment later. Murmur wasn’t solid like the rest of them. Perhaps since he wasn’t a Nethersinger by birth, his form here was far less substantial. Like a replication of a replication, soft and fuzzy. Kyara longed to rail against the ancient man, but didn’t want to alarm Tana.

“Where are we?” the girl asked.

“Inside the Mother.” Murmur’s voice creaked with age.

“Weren’t we there before?”

“We were inside her body, now we’re inside her heart. You may use your power here. Unleash it and allow it to flow.”

“And we won’t harm anyone?” Kyara asked.

“No, not here,” Mooriah replied. “It’s part of the magic of the Mother.” Kyara wasn’t certain about any of it, not about accessing her power so close to the others or Singing in general.

“You cannot harm a Nethersinger with your power, Kyara.” Murmur’s voice floated over her.

Hopefully, she could wrangle her Song under control and then, perhaps, get some answers from the old man. She reached for the whirling energy inside her and tapped into it. But whereas it had always been a hurricane before, now it felt docile. A little kitten purring in her palms. Literally.

A soft, glowing light winked into existence, embodying her power as a tiny, feline creature lying asleep in her open hands. She gasped at the sensation of its weight and heft.

“The power of the Mother,” Murmur rasped with reverence. “Externalizing your power into an avatar is a gift from her. It will help you separate what you can do from who you are. The Mother is mighty indeed. Death, life, spirit, matter are all hers to control. That is the legacy of the Folk, the one we strove so hard to protect from the Outside. Though in the end, we failed.” His sorrow was palpable.

Kyara was so entranced by the soft, gentle thing in her grasp that she barely heard him. “What do I do with this?”

“Nurture and protect it, the way you would a real animal. It is your power and you must bond with it.”

“But death is not so quiet and unassuming.”

“Death is constant,” Mooriah said. “It is endless, why should it need to rage when it can come quietly and destroy even the most powerful with a whisper? Why do you need to run, or struggle, or curse and cry and berate when you can glide, and flow, and be smooth?”

She lifted her hand and a tiny, chirping bird flickered into existence, resting on her outstretched finger. “When I want it to, it can grow,” Mooriah said, and in the blink of an eye, the tiny birdling was a massive raptor, with sharp claws and an intimidating beak. And then with a snap of the fingers on her other hand, her power transformed back to its tiny, hatchling form. “It can be whatever you need.”

Kyara shook her head, focusing on the kitten in her palm, which was breathing deeply, fast asleep. She sensed the lion lurking within, but that power wasn’t needed now and so was not showing itself. She tentatively rubbed a hand over the sleeping creature’s head, pushing down the soft, downy fur. “Unbelievable.”

“Look at mine!” Tana called out with excitement. A very small lizard was curled in her outstretched hand. Kyara had never seen the girl beam so brightly. “She’ll be a dragon when she’s big!” Her voice held all the joy of a child opening her birthday gifts.

Her glee was both charming and worrisome. Kyara drew closer, not wanting to douse her delight, but needing her to remain cautious nonetheless. “What you said yesterday, about thinking that I’m some kind of hero. You have to know that I was forced to become the Poison Flame. I don’t enjoy killing people. Neither should you, regardless of the power we have.”

“I don’t want to kill people. I just want to protect myself and my sister.” She spoke in a hushed tone, her eyes wide.

“Protect from what?”

Tana blinked and the lizard disappeared from her hand. She lifted one of the long sleeves of her dress. They wore the same clothes inside the Mother as in real life, and Kyara guessed their bodies were the same, too, for Tana’s arm was covered in scars. “My father used to say that I killed my mother. I guess it’s true, she died giving birth to me. He blamed me. Took it out on me with beatings and whippings.” Tana’s voice held no emotion but Kyara grew angry on her behalf. If she hadn’t already killed the girl’s cretin of a father, she would have gladly done so again.

“When he met Ulani’s mama, he left off some, but after she had Ulani and ran off, he started back up. Locking me in the closet. Beating me. Ulani had to sneak me food ’cause he’d forget about me for days, and I’d be left in there to starve.” She sniffed and a tear crested her cheek. Kyara put an arm around her and held her close. The girl certainly felt like solid flesh, warm and just a touch frail.

“If I’d been powerful, if I’d been like you,” Tana continued, “then no one could have hurt me. I could have stopped him. Stopped our stepmother from selling us away. I may never grow up to be tall and strong. If I’m small and weak what chance do I have?”

She spoke a truth of life, one Kyara couldn’t refute. But she did have to set her straight on one thing. “Having power doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt. The ones you love will always be able to cut you deeper than anyone else. But I am starting to believe that we have these strange Songs for a reason. And there’s a reason that only a few of us get them. Every Lagrimari is born with Earthsong except for us, we’re rare and special. Rarer still to survive having this ability.” She rested her head on top of the girl’s.

“You are strong and powerful, Tana, and not because of Nethersong, but because of who you are. Please don’t think I don’t understand. I know what it’s like to be beaten down. I have scars, too.” She rolled up her sleeve to reveal the results of years of being used as fodder for blood magic. Tana examined the revealed skin, then met Kyara’s gaze.

“We’ll learn how to do this together,” Kyara said. She didn’t want to have anyone looking up to her; she didn’t feel she was worthy of the distinction and knew it was only a matter of time before Tana realized her awe and hopes had been put in the wrong person. Kyara wasn’t Darvyn, she wasn’t anyone’s savior, she could barely save herself, but at the same time, she felt a kinship with Tana and didn’t want to let the girl down.

She still hated Nethersong, even here and now where it was gentle and subdued. However, she would try to change her attitude in the way she hoped Tana would. Try to model what she wanted the girl to see and be—there was no reason Tana couldn’t be the strong, powerful hero she thought Kyara was.

And if Kyara had to pretend to be something she wasn’t in order to help the girl, then so be it. It certainly wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever done.