Page 2 of Muse

"Yes, serendipitous," I said as we entered the ballroom together.

It was a grand room with marble floors and columns around the edge. Diamond chandeliers hung above us, and a beautiful mural featuring ancient muses dancing in the skies with the Matronae of Muses was painted on the ceiling.

The Matronae were the three goddesses who mothered the original muses ages ago: Brigida, the goddess of beauty, life, and dancing; Mnema, the goddess of knowledge, memory, and music; and Freya, the goddess of love, death, and magik.

The other muses were already there—twelve of us in total, mostly young women but with a few men and nonbinary. All of them were dressed in their exquisite gowns or jumpsuits,stretching and practicing their magik… and waiting. The enchanter wasn't here yet, so there was little more that anyone could do.

Briar, Wrenley, and I joined the others. We only started stretching when I felt a shift in the air. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, but not in an unpleasant way. Each column had a torch, and the bright flames flickered and turned red momentarily.

Soren had arrived.

Chapter 2

The color of the festival of Balefire was red, but Soren Tomoleo was dressed all in black. His long jacket was an inverted design of the muses, solid black embroidered with red branches, and his shirt was open enough to reveal a hint of his chest and a ruby amulet on a chain. He was tall, but the way he walked –swaggered, really – somehow made him seem even taller. His hair was raven black and pushed back so it curled at the nape of his neck, and his eyes were dark but vibrant.

As soon as he stepped into the room, all of the muses turned to look at him. It was the compulsion of his position since he was our enchanter, but I would've turned anyway. He was handsome and captivating, with fluid movements and a smile that made my heart stop in my chest when he cast it my way.

"Good evening, my amazing muses," Soren announced as he approached, and we made a semicircle around him. You are all stunning, not that there was ever any concern." His eyes weresurveying the lot of us as he spoke, but I swear, when his tongue landed onstunning, his gaze held mine for a moment.

“You aren’t too bad yourself,” Wrenley said in xer deadpan way.

Soren smirked. "Your half-assed sycophancy is both needless and appreciated, Wrenley, as always." Then, to the rest of us, "Can I assume you are all limber enough for a final rehearsal?"

“Is this necessary?” one of the other muses asked. “In the past, we haven’t done a dress rehearsal on the morning of the conduction.”

“Yes, well, I was not the enchanter in the past. Perhaps their standards weren’t as high as mine,” Soren countered. “Now, shall we get to our places and begin from the top?”

"Yes, sir," Briar chirped in unison with other muses, but I kept my mouth shut and hurried to my position.

The twelve of us made two circles—six on the inner ring close together and six on the outer ring a bit further apart. I was on the inner circle, next to Wrenley, and I started with my arms above my head and my hands subtly splayed in a gesture known as "the rosebud."

Soren stood beyond the outer edge, and we waited, frozen in silence, until our cue. A moment later, he began to sing in a rich baritone that never failed to give me goosebumps on my arms. He moved his hands with a flourish, like someone conducting an orchestra, and it wasn't instruments he commanded but magik.

Music played out from the torches on the columns, and it was the song of the flames—violins in vibrant ecstasy, cellos in deep thrumming, lyres in delicate excitement.

As soon as the music began, we started to move. It was soft and fluid, like a subtle ballet, but none of us stepped out of our ring. We stayed in our place, twirling and dancing, with our hands held above our heads. Sparkling lights traveled out from our fingertips, creating glimmering images in the air above us.

Our magik was the thread that held it all together, creating a beautiful symphony of music, motion, and light.

Our conduction at the Balefire was paramount to the Kingdom of Calida. Conduction was the act of magik being guided between the realms—the ether where it came from and the land where we lived. The magik we put back into the air would become the magik our kingdom received in the future.

Tomorrow, the crops will be planted after the Balefire, and all seeds will be sown for the summer. This was the kingdom's most important season, and we needed as much magik returned to us as possible.

Muses were born with the magik pumping through our veins, and the enchanters were a subset of warlocks specifically trained to help us harness and release our magik into the world. Soren's song was more than music. It was a transcendent incantation that brought our power to the surface. The muses were the flame, and the enchanters were the match.

Together, what we did was far more than entertainment, although the performances were beautiful and compelling. If we faltered, the fields could be destitute and the harvests abysmal. But if we did well, the kingdom, family, and friends would thrive.

As we danced, Soren stalked around us, studying us for any mistake. My eyes were meant to be cast toward the heavens, but I would steal glances at him whenever I had the chance. His face was unreadable, and the song had an instrumental interlude, so he was no longer singing.

But he had yet to call out an error. We all moved together, perfectly in sync. Our fingertips cast dazzling lights in grand arcs about the room, and even in the midst of it, it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

“Isadore Dellamousa!” Soren yelled suddenly, and I stumbled on my feet for the first time.

Everyone around me froze, unsure what to do when I missed my steps. My skin was aflame with embarrassment when I looked over at Soren.

“Isadore, what in all the Kingdoms of Wespen are you doing?” He sounded gentler now, almost exasperated, and he walked between muses on the outer ring, stepping right up to me.

“I-I’m… performing?”

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