Page 95 of The Seeker
She didn’t want to pause for recording equipment, so Meera opened her senses and whispered her own spells of memory, tapping into the well of magic she’d spent a lifetime perfecting.
As Ata sang, Meera channeled the song and the memory directly, wrapping up the words Ata sang, the feel of the earth under her, the cool, humid air that surrounded her, and the song of morning birds. She took all of it into herself, capturing the memory in a crystal faceted by sound, scent, taste, and touch.
This is why we need you, her heart cried.This is why you must not fade.
In Meera, the memory of Ata’s rising song entered the communal memory of the Irina, forever preserved in magic. The memory sank into her, a silken thread captured, unspooling into eternity before her eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
Rhys rose with the first morning song. He walked barefoot out of the hut and watched from the edge of the garden as Ata sang. Meera’s eyes were fixed on the warrior singer, her body swaying with the sacred rhythm, and Rhys knew he was witnessing the true purpose of her power. He could feel the pull of it, even from a distance, the expansion as Ata’s magic rose over the bayou.
It showered the mound in magic. He could feel it in the ground beneath his feet, feel the deep age of the earth and the water and the foundation that held this place above the forest floor.
His mind struggled to process what Meera’s magic felt like. It was an opening. An unfurling. Like a flower soaking in the sun, taking the magic of the song into itself and sending that energy to the root of her soul.
The beauty of it brought tears to his eyes. He walked to the edge of the mound across from them and felt the sun rising at his back, but he could only stare at her. She was a star rising before his eyes.
I am for her. She is for me. No other will love her the way I can.
Rhys estimated that Ata’s song lasted two hours. Approximately an hour before the sun rose through the hour after it broke over the horizon.
How did she know when to wake?
It was only one of the questions he had. What did the rising song do? What was the purpose of the magic? From the feeling beneath his feet, Rhys suspected the purpose was an establishment of the land the haven sat on. He would guess the song would be sung communally when more Irina lived on the mound. Now it was only Ata.
“Maybe she sees it as simply following the path all her people have traveled ahead of her. How would you feel if you were the last of your people? If all that was left of your language was your own memories?”
Meera was right. Rhys didn’t understand that level of loneliness. The human half of his DNA had run rampant over the earth, filling the world with English language and customs. It was impossible to imagine ever being the last of his kind.
But here on the mound, as Ata sang her morning song, Rhys could empathize with her. She had guarded this place for centuries, all on her own. She’d sheltered the travelers and cared for the weak. She’d tended gardens that only fed herself and protected a place lost to the modern Irin world.
Her strength humbled him, but he also knew why she wanted to fade. Meera was resisting it with every breath in her body, but Rhys understood. He understood even if he didn’t agree.
Our world needs her. It needs them.
Ata finished her song, but Rhys didn’t move. Meera was still in the fullness of her power though she looked exhausted. Her eyes were closed as she sat planted in her spot on the bare ground. The morning sun touched her skin, turning the warm copper to gold before his eyes. He imagined gold written on her skin, gold mating marks he would write, a gold vow over her heart.
Sha ne’ev reshon.
Ata rose and walked over to him. “Water? I’m getting some for your woman. She’ll be tired when she wakes.”
“Please.”
Ata went to the water jug and raised the wooden lid before she filled two drinking gourds. She set one next to a meditating Meera before she came back to Rhys. Meera was rocking slightly, her eyes closed, her energy effervescent but fading.
Rhys continued to watch her as Ata sat next to him. “Have you seen her kind before?”
“Yes.” Ata’s eyes were shadowed when she passed him the gourd. “We had asomasikaraof our own once. She was killed before she could pass on her memories.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ata shrugged. “It is the way of history, scribe. I hope you understand your duty to protect this one.”
“I do. Though she’s pretty good at protecting herself.”
Ata glanced at Meera, who had stretched prone on the ground, soaking up the earth magic that surrounded her. “I will teach her songs to use against the Fallen and the Grigori. I will give you both that. When she takes my memories, she’ll be even more powerful, but she’ll still need a keeper to make sure she protects herself from herself.”
Rhys’s heart beat faster. “Does that mean you’ve decided to share your martial magic with us?”
