Page 46 of Requiem of Silence

Kyara inhaled sharply. “Like Fenix?”

For the first time, Mooriah seemed discomposed. A wash of pain coated her features at the mention of the strange man they’d met in Yaly. The one who had been imprisoned like Kyara had been, only he’d been there for hundreds of years. He’d been an Earthsinger, but not quite human, with glowing flesh brighter than the sun.

Fenix had disappeared into a portal torn between worlds to a place unknown, but had promised he would return.

“My father was like Fenix,” Darvyn repeated, testing the words on his lips. “And why can’t people like him—us—enter the city?”

Mooriah’s lips twisted. “Because Fenix was a fool.” Her tone was wry, but held great affection. “He made mistakes that resulted in his being banned, not only him but all of his kind. Which, apparently, extends to you. I did not realize.”

Kyara looked back and forth between them. “Can Murmur lift the spell that bans him?”

“Perhaps, though he may not have the power to any longer. It’s an old spell, and there are so few of them left.”

“Well, we can’t just leave him out here.” Her voice grew louder. The reality of what they were here to do was weighing on her; without Darvyn’s calming presence, she feared she was finally going to fall apart.

“There is nothing for it.” Kyara wanted to slap the calm from Mooriah’s round cheeks.

Ella was brimming with tension. She wasn’t wearing the translation device and as such was unable to follow the conversation. Ulani looked on with wide eyes, watching the argument unfold.

“I’ve seen the men made of light, too,” the little girl whispered. “Sometimes.”

Mooriah appeared startled and crouched down to her level. Ella gripped Ulani’s shoulders, holding her tight against her legs.

“And what did these men do?” Mooriah asked, intently focused on Ulani.

She shook her head. “Watched.”

“Hmm.”

“You took Tana,” Ulani accused, crossing her arms and scowling.

Mooriah rose, lifting her chin. “With good reason. And there is little time to waste. If you do not want to wait here,” she directed to Darvyn, “there is a campsite on a ridge aboveground not farfrom here. It’s where…” She trailed off then cleared her throat. “You can stay there.” The melancholy in her voice reminded Kyara of their first meetings, when she’d known Mooriah only as the Sad Woman because of the despair that hung around her.

Darvyn appeared resigned, and Kyara’s anger muted. “I’ll come to meet you tonight,” she said around the lump in her throat.

He smiled, then kissed her. “And I’ll be waiting.”

Mooriah gave him directions to go through a different tunnel from the one they’d used before. He took a flashlight and stared back at her.

Conscious of both Ella’s and Mooriah’s urgency, Kyara traded a long look with him before taking a deep breath and stepping back through the doorway to the cave city.

Mooriah unerringly led the way down to where the Cavefolk were gathered. They carefully navigated the towering staircases cut into the rock and the angled pathways leading to the bottom level of the vast underground city.

The temperature dropped steadily as they descended. “Why do they stay on the ground where it’s so much colder?” Kyara asked, donning the brown army jacket that she’d found packed in her knapsack.

“The gardens are on the lowest levels, where the soil is oldest and most fertile,” Mooriah answered.

“How do plants grow with no light?” Ulani asked.

“There is light, not from the sun, but from the Mother herself. She provides.” Mooriah motioned all around them to where the cave softly glowed from bright rocks embedded in the walls. “The firerocks—their brightness is enhanced with the blood and they illuminate our world.”

At the word “blood,” Ella shot an alarmed glance at Kyara. The woman had donned her translator amalgam and glared viciously at Mooriah whenever her gaze settled in that direction. “I have much I wish to say to you,” she’d told the woman, “but I don’t want to drain the translator with my rage. Just take me to my daughter.”

Mooriah had appeared, if not chastened, then at least contrite. “Much depends on the girl,” she’d said. Not an apology, Kyara noted.

“What happened to the rest of the Cavefolk? Why is this place abandoned?” Ella’s tinny voice rang out now.

“Many left, favoring the Outside, in the years after the Founders came and made the land more hospitable and life-giving. Over time, the population dwindled as fewer wanted to maintain the old ways.”

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