Page 70 of Requiem of Silence

“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 mostpowerful 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 theirbodies 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.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Is gold more precious than

a heart filled to overflowing?

What price can you give to intangible

mysteries of love?

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