CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Do we only have one chance to join the refrain?

Or do opportunities come like the rain?

What’s inside of you cannot forever be silent.

Whether in this lifetime or the next,

you will join the infinite choir.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

The scent of smoke hung heavy in the air. Kyara wrinkled her nose, resisting the urge to sneeze. Clanging peals from the all-clear alarm rang for the second time, and people slowly trickled out of emergency shelters.

However, some were still trapped; the damage the wraiths had done to buildings had covered exits and buried basements under piles of rubble. As the streets gradually filled, people began banding together to dig out their neighbors. Lagrimari with their newly restored Songs worked alongside men and women with shovels and sticks to lever debris and create new paths underground to free the trapped survivors. The sight pierced the veil of Kyara’s numbness just a little.

She’d left Darvyn with Jasminda at a sprawling hospital complex where they were coordinating recovery efforts and tending to the wounded.

“I just need to clear my head,” she’d said. He’d understood.

As she walked, she lent aid where she could. Helping to push a half-crushed auto from the front of a building, pulling a woman away from a shower of bricks as a freestanding house collapsed, calming an agitated horse—she used her Song to weaken the beast so that its handlers could reattach the bridle. All the while, she tried to make sense of the swirling emotions within her.

The True Father’s face at rest haunted her. After a lifetime of murder, why did this one affect her so deeply? But she knew the answer. Slaying the former king was the first time she’d consciously killed without the blood spell forcing her to, without any coercion whatsoever. It would stain her soul in a new way—even though it had been necessary.

Was he in the World After now, looking through some mirror at her, promising vengeance? She would do it again, a thousand times over, but that did not mean the stain would fade.

She paused in the middle of the sidewalk. Someone cursed softly, nearly bumping into her, then walked around, but her gaze was unseeing.

The World After. Tana.

She turned in a circle, disconcerted, then looked up to the portal hanging ominously overhead, quiet now, empty of spirits. She’d left Tana there. She’d have to go back and find her.

A woman on the other side of the street called out her name. Kyara refocused and then cringed to find Ella running toward her. The woman’s face was dirty, her dress ripped in places and blood was caked on her knuckles. But she smiled radiantly at Kyara when she stopped before her.

Then her smile turned to confusion as she looked around—searching for her daughter. Kyara’s throat felt like someone had shoved hot spikes into it. She had no idea how to tell the woman that her husband was gone and Tana was somewhere in the World After chasing him.

But then Benn Ravel stepped to his wife’s side, carrying Ulani on his hip. Kyara gasped.

“What’s happened?” Ella asked, breathless. “Where is she?”

Kyara’s gaze never left Benn, who was battered as well with a black eye blooming and a split lip. That’s how she was sure he wasn’t still a wraith. “You. You’re alive?”

A dark bundle of fur rubbed up against her legs as Raven said his hello. Ella clutched Benn’s free arm and the man nodded. “Feel like I was trampled by another runaway horse, but I’m still here. Where’s my daughter?”

Ulani spoke up. “Papa was gone, but Tana brought him back.” Raven gave a little yip, as if in agreement, and went to sit at Benn’s feet.

“How did you know?” Kyara asked. Ulani shrugged.

Ella was growing frantic, and Benn had started breathing heavily. Kyara held up her hands. “She’s in the World After. She went there to get you,” she nodded at Benn, “and didn’t return.”

The girl’s body—Kyara had become so distracted she hadn’t thought to look after it. Likely it had been taken to a hospital. Tana wasn’t dead, not really, but would anyone be able to tell?

Ella’s growing horror was a punch to the gut. Kyara had promised this woman that she’d take care of her daughter and failed.

“I will go back and get her. I’ll bring her back, don’t worry. She’s not in danger. It’s just that the World After is…” She couldn’t put into words the complex vastness of the place. She had no idea how large it was, had never navigated the place and didn’t know where to begin, but she would bring Tana back no matter what.

Ella looked haunted. Benn’s gaze held a misery that caused Kyara to take a step back. Guilt roared in her ears like an engine—one fueled by her lifetime of failures. It was so loud she almost didn’t hear the bells.

Ulani’s sudden smile seemed out of place. The girl was beaming at something just behind Kyara. She looked over her shoulder and squinted at the shine of golden light, like the sun had broken through the twilight gloom to shine its midday rays upon them.

And then Fenix was there.

He stepped out of a bright portal, which almost swallowed up the darkness of the place from where he’d emerged. And he carried something—no, someone—in his arms.

“Tana!” Ella cried, leaping forward. She brushed the girl’s braided head and stroked her cheeks. Tana’s eyes opened sleepily.

“Mama?” She yawned and stretched, looking around. Then her body seized as she caught sight of Benn. She clambered out of Fenix’s hold to stand on shaky legs, then launched herself at her father, wrapping him and her sister in a hug.

Kyara’s breathing restarted as the family reunited. She turned to Fenix, jaw agape.

“She got lost and needed a little help returning,” the man said, “I happened to be headed this way when I sensed her.”

“You sensed her in the World After?”

“We have tracking abilities.” He said no more, leaving Kyara to wonder, not for the first time exactly what kind of power Fenix’s people possessed. He was obviously able to cross between the worlds with ease, and with all she’d already seen him accomplish, what were his limits? It frightened her, but she was grateful to him.

“Thank you. I—” She shook her head. “I didn’t end up taking very good care of her.”

“As I understand it, children are rather difficult to look after. And you did a good job looking after this world.” He lifted his arm, motioning to the shell-shocked survivors beginning to take stock of their homes and businesses. Everywhere she turned something had been damaged, if not destroyed outright. Buildings looked like they’d been bombed, power lines were down, a burst pipe two blocks over filled the street with water.

The reconstruction effort would take a long, long time. She may have been instrumental in saving the people, but she wasn’t sure anyone would thank her. However, she didn’t have the energy to contradict him.

“The portal is going to be a problem,” Kyara said instead. “I don’t think I can close it, or at least I don’t know how to.”

Fenix tilted his head up. The portal was stark against the darkening sky. She thought it would probably still be visible once it hit full dark.

“Where is Mooriah?” he asked.

“She was ejected from the body she’d been using. I haven’t seen her since.”

He closed his golden eyes and grew very still—not even appearing to breathe. “I know where she is.”

They said their good-byes to the girls and their parents, then Fenix led Kyara back to the Portside Hospital, where Jasminda and Darvyn were out front overseeing the Earthsingers volunteering for healing tasks.

Jasminda had not met Fenix before. Though he’d tempered his glow to appear more human, he still stood out and drew stares from those around them. Kyara made the introductions, but Fenix paid little attention to the Elsiran queen. His gaze had been captured by the crowd of bystanders gathered around the plaza.

The sea of people parted and Mooriah stood there, looking rather regal herself. Kyara wondered what body she was using, hoping it was not a corpse.

“Spirits cannot normally possess the dead,” Fenix said, using that uncanny ability he had to read her thoughts. “It was the foul magic of the True Father’s that made it possible. It cost him quite dearly. And I cannot read your mind, you just have a very expressive face.” The hint of a smile danced on his lips.

Darvyn was suddenly next to her, speaking low in her ear. “Are you all right?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She truly had no idea.

Mooriah paced toward them, scowling at Fenix. “Why haven’t you closed the portal?”

“Hello to you, too,” Kyara muttered, but Fenix’s smile emerged full force.

“I will, but there’s the matter of the sentinel to be decided.”

“What is there to decide?” Mooriah snapped. “I have served the role all this time, I shall return again.” At this, Fenix’s smile slipped away.

“What is a sentinel?” Kyara asked.

“The barrier between worlds is still thin,” Fenix responded. “No doubt some enterprising future mage will find a way to breach it again. The World After needs someone to watch over it, monitor the restless spirits, and give the living a warning the next time things go astray.”

Kyara shuddered to think of a next time. She turned to Mooriah. “That’s what you were doing for all that time? You were the sentinel?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Murmur told me that one was needed, and that was a role I was uniquely prepared to play.”

“It needs to be a Nethersinger?” Kyara’s chest grew tight. Darvyn stiffened beside her.

Fenix was grim. “Few others can survive in the World After.”

“And that is why I will go back.” Mooriah’s expression was stoic, but Kyara sensed melancholy beneath the surface.

“You have served you time.” Fenix crossed his arms, looking annoyed for the first time. “You committed no crime. And even if you had, surely the sentence has been paid.”

“Who else then? This one and the girl have lives to live. I have already lived mine. You would ask one of these children to sacrifice so much?” Hurt laced her voice.

Fenix dropped his head, looking chagrined. “Of course not.”

Kyara did not have to be an Earthsinger to sense the longing within Fenix for Mooriah. Centuries ago Mooriah had married another and raised a family, but there was obviously history between these two, even if it was complicated.

Mooriah reached for his hand. “Another lifetime. Is that not what I told you? Just, perhaps not this one.”

Fenix remained silent, staring at the ground. Kyara closed her eyes, unwilling to see more. Darvyn’s hand was solid at her back, a supportive presence. She kept her eyes shut as she spoke, unwilling to see what her words would do to him.

“It’s my turn,” she whispered, more breath than sound. Darvyn’s hand gripped the back of her tunic, but she continued. “You’ve given up more than anyone could ever ask you to, Mooriah. It’s my turn.” She opened her eyes, still avoiding Darvyn.

Mooriah frowned. “I cannot ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to. There’s no place for me here, I’ve done too much that can’t be forgiven. That shouldn’t be forgiven. If this is penance, or punishment, or simply making amends. It must be me.”

Tears welled in Mooriah’s eyes. “This sacrifice you make, almost no one will know of it.”

“I don’t do it for glory. It’s necessary, isn’t it?”

Mooriah nodded slowly. Darvyn’s hand was stone, still clutching the back of her clothing. She dared not look at him and flinched at the devastation in his voice when he spoke. “Is there any way I can go with her?”

“Darvyn, no!” She spun around to face him, but this time he ignored her.

“Fenix?” he pleaded. He was still as a statue, but cracks were already forming.

“The World After is for the dead,” Fenix replied. Then he squinted and tilted his head to the side, peering at Darvyn. “But perhaps…”

“Perhaps what?”

“Perhaps if I unbind you…”

Darvyn’s eyes widened. “I’m bound?”

“The powers you inherited from your father are buried within you. They would have been difficult for you to manage as a young child without training and so they retreated. Once they are unearthed, I see no reason for you not to be able to survive between worlds. You could go with her if you chose to.”

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.