Page 90 of Requiem of Silence

Never take a retrograde step.

Only the future is real. What does it matter when and where you learned this? Why it was taught to you? It was better to have forgotten.

When you left that place, all those years ago, you asked why he deigned to teach so much.

“Many years ago, I had a vision,” he said, “a prophecy of a war that cannot be avoided. And shortly before you arrived, I had another one.” Pale eyes pierced him with blades of scrutiny. “‘The one who walks in the Dark will embrace the Light.’”

You’d grown indignant. “Is that supposed to be me? Walking through these dark caves? I don’t believe in prophecies.”

“Darkness surrounds you, but a turning point lies ahead. The tools I have provided, they can save us all… or doom us,” he murmured. “It is the only gamble I have to play.”

You shake off the words from long ago and recall instead the spell to open the portal. You can now picture its shape and architecture, the way it was put together.

You can see the flaws.

Blood magic is different than inborn Songs. It requires intention and material. Not just blood, but something to hold it. Something around which to create the caldera—the container for the magic.

If a spell went awry, it was usually either the material or the intent behind the incantation that was wrong. Different words, synonyms with different emphasis behind them, could lead to many different results.

Inspiration strikes. You rush out to find the guards at your doors. “Take me to Nikora’s study. I need writing materials.”

They look at one another and at first you are not sure they will comply, but then they lead you with maddeningly plodding steps through the castle.

You burst into the study, surprising Cayro and Nikora. “Paper, pen! I think I know what’s wrong with the spell.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the spell,” Nikora cries and you shoot her an icy glare. She goes silent, pushing her nose into the air before waving at the sideboard, where a box of paper is stored next to the dwindling pile of amalgamations.

You began to write furiously, pouring out the memories that have returned. Synonyms of terms, other ways of constructing the spells, the knowledge of a people lost to time. Lost to their own traditions. Swallowed up by a new people who replaced them.

You may be the last connection to them. This may be their last work.

You ignore all else as you write, certain that you have found your way back to power.

You would thank the old man if you could, if he was somehow still alive, but though your memory of him has returned, you cannot remember his name.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Become your own master.

Bow not to another.

You are a proficient bearer of

your own destiny.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

Murmur’s voice droned in Kyara’s head as he gave instructions on ways to tweak her performance. She was having a hard time focusing, since the Breath Father’s words from the day before were still reverberating inside her skull. The vision he’d showed her replayed in her mind over and over again, destroying her ability to concentrate.

Ahlini’s smiling face, theulla’s stricken one, the kindness of the guard. Why hadn’t she remembered any of that before? Whywere only the worst things etched forever in her memory—the pain and trauma, the abuse, the killing?

She made a promise to herself to hold close the positive experiences she’d had and try and use them to overwhelm all of the suffering. An intense longing for Darvyn swelled and she had that to wade through as well in order to get back to the present moment.

Tana’s squeal of delight brought her back. Kyara blinked the haze away from her eyes to witness the girl’s triumph. She had moved on from attacking static trees to hitting moving targets. Smoky creatures, similar to the wraith spirits, flew in swirls and spirals at the other end of the cavern. Tana’s dragon avatar breathed purple fire into the mass of writhing forms, singeing them into nonexistence.

When all her targets were gone, the dragon retreated and the girl clapped her hands. True joy shone on her face and it nearly brought a tear to Kyara’s eye. Tana deserved her happiness, and her growing skill was impressive.

Every evening, they would return aboveground to Darvyn’s camp where he would be helping Ulani master her Song. The little puppy Fenix had manifested from pure Earthsong was still there. Ulani had named him Raven. The girls would chatter and play while the adults looked on. Watching the children both warmed Kyara’s heart and saddened her.

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