The Chorus of Dawn

Prologue

Queen Sherin of Scaeferne strolled across her room in a turret of Granitepoint Castle. The wide, paneless window gave her a sprawling view of the fortress that girt the castle, the mountain road winding to the gates, and the village of houses that surrounded the keep.

Here at the top of Granitepoint Mountain, the castle’s highest turrets were usually shrouded in clouds. On this day, however, there was not a trace of fog. When she forgot to shut the window, the damp sometimes drifted into the room and moistened everything—the walls, the carpets and the furniture. Every time that happened, Sherin would have Talon dry the carpets and sheets, to prevent mildew from growing. But now, summer was nearing, and the clouds had all but disappeared.

It was on mornings like these that Sherin liked to breathe the fresh mountain air and began to sing. She lifted her head to the clouds and began to belt out a melody without words, inventing each new run of notes as she reached the end of the last, then wove it into more complex melodies, imagining the harmonies and accompaniments.

Despite the many matters she had to attend to every day, she always found time to practise her harp and sing. People had called her voice rich and low. Just like the voices of the goddesses themselves, her husband Arefiel liked to say, when he was feeling amorous.

Just as she began to dare some higher notes, she was cut off by the sound of rapid hoofbeats across the drawbridge. Sherin’s eyes snapped downward, and as she peered at the road below, she saw a red-cloaked figure on horseback, hurtling towards the castle.

It appeared one of her mages was in an awful hurry. Sherin went out of the room and marched down the stairs as fast as her morning gown would allow.

At the entrance hall, the rider already awaited. The queen smiled to see that it was Reole, one of the five mages who served her. She was dressed for an outing: white shirt, brown breeches, her mage’s cloak draped around her shoulders and a pair of riding boots. Her brown hair was tied in a high ponytail for riding, though it had begun to slip from the vigour of the gallop, and her brown eyes were ever piercing and harsh, even as she caught her breath.

Sherin hurried towards the entrance portal as the mage handed the horse to the stable master and strode into the hall.

“Qeen Sherin,” she called as their eyes met, dipping her head in a bow.

“I thought you were on the way to buy mountain herbs,” Sherin replied.

Reole told the story as they strolled up the hall towards the stairs. “I was,” she explained. “But a landslide began just as I was nearing the shop, and I turned at once and began to flee.” She sighed. “The shop must have been buried under the rocks…I feel sorry for the keeper, if they were there.”

Sherin felt her skin prickling at the details. “It hasn’t rained in weeks. Why was there a landslide? Was there a known cause?”

“Not that I know of.”

She turned to one of the guards quietly flanking the door. “Send some help,” she said. “I need a task force to investigate the landslide.”

While Reole left to freshen up and the guard relayed her message, Sherin continued to ponder the circumstances. They hadn’t had a landslide in summer in decades. But just what had caused it?

***

As the sun set, Queen Sherin took an evening stroll along the courtyard balcony to watch her daughter, Myphene, at her magic classes. Though Myphene was still nine years old, she already showed great promise in the area of spell-casting, and Sherin enjoyed watching her daughter’s progress. She watched the girl and her teacher from the second level balcony overlooking the garden.

“Alright, Myphene,” said her teacher, Veriana. “What did we do yesterday?” Veriana was another of the five mages who waited on Sherin—a specialist in light magic. She had bushy brown hair that she rarely tried to tame. Any attempt to tidy it would become undone within half a day.

Sherin listened with pride as Myphene listed the things she had learned the day before. The lesson soon began, and Sherin watched as the two performed spells that gave off flashes of light, as well as a few true light spells. The Festival of Summer was fast approaching, and Myphene had been eagerly awaiting joining the performances of light spells on that night.

Midway into the lesson, Sherin heard footsteps behind her, and a black-cloaked man whom she knew by sound to be her husband, Arafiel, appeared by her side. He leaned on the railing and looked down upon Myphene and Veriana, a smile across his face, lit by the dim sunset light.

“Just watch her,” Arefiel commented warmly. “She learns so fast.”

Sherin leaned closer to the railing and watched as well. Down below, Myphene had conjured a ball of light and was expanding it.

Suddenly, a loud, unworldly screeching shattered the warm evening. The sound seemed to claw at Sherin’s ears, and she clapped her hands over them, trying to block the sound. “What is that?” she gasped in fright. The wind was beginning to howl like a wolf.

Sherin looked up and saw a black winged shape circling against the clouds.

“A—a Hollow,” Arefiel breathed by her side.

With frightening speed, the Spirit whipped around and shot like an arrow towards the garden, where Veriana was staring up. Myphene’s gaze soon followed, and Sherin realised that the Spirit was headed for her.

“Myphene!” Sherin screamed, racing down a spiral staircase and out into the garden. But the moment Myphene came into view, the Hollow pounced and snatched the girl’s face with its tendrils, coiling into her mouth.

Myphene stood, frozen, as the black mass poured into her mouth like tar. Veriana cowered, frozen, behind a tree. The wind dropped as the last of the blackness crawled through the throat.

Then, the girl crashed backwards onto the grass. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated to pinpricks.

Sherin sprinted out into the garden. Myphene was not moving, and still did not move when Sherin descended to her side. “Myphene!” she whispered in panic, shaking her daughter by her shoulders. The girl did not reply. “Myphene!” Her voice rose to a scream.

“Veriana, call the healers. Now!” Arefiel shouted behind her. The dumbstruck mage nodded with a, “yes, Your Majesty,” and took off into the castle.

“Oh, Myphene,” Sherin murmured, cradling her catatonic daughter in her arms. “Do you hear me? Please, oh please…” She descended to sobs.

***

Myphene’s condition did not improve, even with all the Hymnists of the Triad singing to exorcise the spirit. The scholars said that the Hollow would soon take root too deep in her soul to be removed, and from then, it would take control of her mind and kill her from inside. It had no mind of its own, and when it overran a human’s mind, they became erratic and mad as their soul fed the creature.

All day, Sherin prayed to Isola, Goddess of the Sky, to aid her priests and give them the strength to save the girl. But nothing seemed to work. She did not move. Only the sound of her uneven breathing told Sherin her daughter was not dead.

“I don’t understand,” said Ederif, one of the most eminent scholars in service of the royal family, in Sherin’s study. “Hollows have only been known to attack travellers in the wilds. They don’t come to find people in settlements. Or, they didn’t.”

“Strange things seem to be happening now,” Sherin replied with a frown. “First, the landslide, then the attack. Could they be…signs? Of something far more terrible to come?”

“A possibility worth considering,” the scholar answered. “They could be omens.”

Sherin dismissed the scholar, before locking her room door and sitting unhappily in her armchair. It was agonising watching her daughter’s life hang by a thread every day, to be helpless to save her, even with so many hymnists and scholars under her employ.

“Oh, Isola,” she prayed. “Let us find the cure soon.”

But Sherin was losing hope that praying would help.

***

It had been a week since the day the Hollow had attacked. Four more people in the castle had been claimed by the spirits since—and by now, two had gone mad. Myphene still lay motionless on the bed all day, and she was getting thinner, though the hymnists fed her nectar through her lips. King Arefiel had created a barrier against the Hollows, while the scholars in the castle toiled in the library, scouring every book they had on the matter of the Hollows.

And Sherin spent all her time at Myphene’s bedside, playing the harp and singing to her, hoping that somehow, the sound of her voice might prick through her unfeeling sleep.

Despite these incidents, the preparations for the Festival of Summer carried on as planned. The people still practised their performance spells at night, and the artisans and mages still talked animatedly about the coming date as the days continued to warm.

That night, Sherin gathered the hymnists in the sick room to discuss her options. “Your daughter is very lucky,” said one. “The Hollow in her is young; it still does not know how to control her body. But once it learns, she will become destructive and unpredictable. All we can do now is pray that that does not happen soon.”

Sherin nodded solemnly.

“Hollows are typically rarer than this,” another added. “They are supposed to be formed at the same source, and that source is so deep in the ground that only a few manage to crawl their way out into the world.”

“I have never heard of this, Sister Shandell,” another hymnist replied.

The one named Shandell went on. “It is written in the books of the scholars, though the name eludes me. I have often wondered what lies so far beneath the ground that should be creating these monsters…”

Sherin’s gaze was inevitably drawn to Myphene’s tiny figure, lying supine on the bed by a window in that plain little room. Just seeing her so weak, so unlike her former self, pierced her heart like an thorn. It had only been a week, but she had cried for what felt months or years.

“Tell me, Sisters,” she said, desperation edging her voice. “Is there a way to cure her? To get this Hollow out of her?”

The sisters glanced at each other. Finally, Sister Shandell spoke up. “You could travel west to the Shuijing Lake, on whose coast the city of Qianqiang stands. It is said that the lake has a penchant for answering unanswered questions.”

Sherin’s head lifted. Then she said, “How does a lake answer questions?”

“That is a mystery to us, too. The stories say that those who live among it have knowledge and inspirations occur to them at the strangest of times.”

“I thank you, Sister Shandell,” she said. “If that is the only way, then I shall leave soon, if possible.”

“Must you go?” asked a different hymnist. “Wouldn’t it be safer to stay in the castle?”

Sherin shook her head. “Please, let me travel…I would lose my mind with terror if I were not working to find the answer.”

The priest nodded. “I cannot prevent Your Majesty from doing as you wish.”

With an exchange of goodbyes, Sherin left the room to go to the servants’ house. Then, she began preparing to leave.

 

Chapter 1: Descent

It only took Sherin a day to choose the people to make the journey with her, not only to be her guard, but also to keep her company. Among them were her five mages, as well as ten mounted knights, cavaliers trained under General Eridon for war.

Taking her harp, rations, and several changes of clothes in a bag, Sherin waited at the fortress gates for the other fifteen, her white stallion by her side. The mages came first, one by one. Then the knights arrived in a contingent, talking among themselves, and the mages huddled together.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” said Jasper, one of the newest of the knights. His short, dark hair always looked just a little wild and wind-tousled, as if he spent all of his time riding. He, like the rest of the knights, wore his riding armour today—a chestplate, pauldrons, gauntlets and greaves—blue tinted with the golden curlicued patterns of Granitepoint Castle. “Good day for travelling, don't you think?”

“Only time will tell,” she said. “With the Hollows around.”

“We are lucky to be accompanied by Your Majesty's mages, then.” Even among all the knights of the castle, Jasper had always stood out to her, his warm manners making themselves felt no matter how briefly they spoke.

“How do you do, Your Majesty?” came the voice of Stein, Knight Commander of Granitepoint, who rode up from behind them with a deep bow to the queen. Today, his beard was trimmed, his brown hair peppered with white.

“I’m quite well, thank you,” she replied. “Could you do me a favour and encourage your knights to converse with the mages? I can’t have you not communicating, you know.”

Stein nodded. These two groups of castle servants had little to do with each other on a normal day, though Sherin would have thought that they would interact at least some of the time. “They could certainly use the, er, practice,” he replied. “Though the mages seem to dislike my men’s company.”

Sherin glanced about till her eyes found two of her mages. “Reole! Veriana!” she called to the two closest to her. Reole turned with a questioning look, before Veriana waved for her to follow. Both rode to join her. “You mages should come meet some of the knights. You’re about to be travelling with them for a few weeks.” It seemed that before she started the journey, she would have to break the ice.

More hoofbeats approached, and a new horse trotted into the gathering, coming to a halt beside Reole. “Who is this beauty I see before me?” declared the knight astride it—Kendral, who wore his long brown hair in a ponytail. “What a fine face you have, milady!”

“Go tell that to someone else,” she snapped, backing away on her horse.

“But I only say it because it is true,” Kendral carried on. “You are like one of the lilies in the pond—”

“Keep away if you want to keep your face,” Reole muttered, retreating to Sherin’s side. Stein sighed, fixing Kendral with a grimace that he ignored.

“Now, now, Reole,” the queen murmured. “Don’t be quite so mean—you will be seeing them daily for the next few weeks. But we have dallied enough—let us do a headcount.”

Slightly agitated but agreeing all the same, Reole rode into line as Sherin counted the fifteen in her entourage, before nodding to Stein. With a command, he led the party down the boulevard and across the castle drawbridge.

Together, the conpany forged their way down the mountain towards the river, along which they would soon be travelling for the next few days.

Along the way, Sherin heard the knights’ and mages’ many failed attempts at making conversation, but still they pressed on and continued down the treacherous mountain paths to the stream.

Stein rode steadfastly in front at all times as they progressed. Behind him went Kayon, his subcommander, then two knights, and then Sherin herself. Following Sherin were the mages, presently discussing the quest they were on.

“She’s seeking a cure for her daughter,” said Veriana, riding to Sherin’s side as their path merged into a larger road. “The poor princess. I hope she is still well.”

Sherin shuddered. “It is in Isola’s hands, now.”

“I have missed seeing her racing about in the halls,” Stein said.

Behind her, the mages offered their assent, then all at once, they were all talking about Myphene, and about the recent attacks by the Hollows. As the minutes passed, she felt the silence finally thawing.

The hour flew by like a minute, with all the discussion among them. They had begun to hear the rush of the humble stream that became the Granitepoint River miles away, shallow enough to wade across, and clear as diamond. The waters sparkled in the flaming sun, singing as they washed over the stones on the riverbed, flowing down to the dark patch of forest in the distance.

“Let’s take a rest,” Sherin ordered, slowing her stallion to a halt.

While the horses drank from the icy stream, the knights and mages continued to talk, watching the sun set. “I’ve always wondered about you mages’ duties,” Jasper said to Veriana, sitting down on a boulder.

“It is unclear even to myself,” the mage replied. “We serve Queen Sherin in any way that our magic can help.”

Reole, walking from her horse, stopped at the mention of the mages’ duties. “Talon dries the rooms, lights the furnaces, and rides out to stock up on supplies. Veriana lights the halls and organises the festivities. And I…” She sulked. “I clean the plumbing and keep the fresh meat from going. Oh, and the ice lollies we have in Summer? My handiwork, too.”

“And we send the rats scampering whenever we see them,” Veriana put in. “Queen's orders.”

“That’s far too much drudgery for mages of your talents,” Jasper said. “I’ll never complain about cleaning the stables again!” Then his eyes lit up, eyes darting from one mage to another. “Would you show us a spell?”

Reole raised an eyebrow, and Sherin briefly thought she might have found his request intrusive, but then she shrugged and held up her right hand, palm facing up. Snowflakes crystallised from the air, and the mountain wind blew them across the gathering and onto the ground. Eyes wide, the knight cupped his hands to catch the white flecks, though they melted in his palms.

“Wait till you see mine!” Veriana exclaimed, sweeping her hand around in a semicircle above her head. A bright ring of light appeared and spun away into the evening sky, and both Jasper and Reole stared up at the fading shape as if they had never seen a light spell in their lives.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” said Reole. “I thought I’d seen everything.”

Veriana grinned. “It’s not as if that spell has any uses other than showing off.”

Chapter 2: The Woods

They stopped in the thin grass to camp. Talon lit a fire, and the group began to roast the game that Leirus, a seasoned hunter among the knights’ ranks, had brought back from his quick skulk. By now, the two groups in the company had begun to fall into perfunctory conversations and jokes about the journey to come.

But as they were finishing their meals, a horrible screeching filled the air. Sherin sat up, frozen with terror, the deer bone falling from her hand.

The bone-chilling cries were coming closer. “Get the horses!” she yelled, searching the area for her pale steed. No one needed telling twice. She leapt onto her horse, and the whole company snatched their baggage and took off from the campsite, riding blindly down along the stream, away from the black thing in the sky.

It was following. Sherin glanced backward, just long enough to see the shape against the mountain, coursing after them. Bowing behind her horse’s neck, she gave the reins a forceful flick. What did the spirit want? Mad with panic, she spurred the horse with her heel. The rest followed suit, and only the reassuring presence of defenders kept her from giving up the run.

Here, the stream fell down a short waterfall and then widened into a placid river. They were nearing the woods as well. If they hid there, could it save the company?

“Everyone, follow!” Sherin shouted, swerving sharply downhill, in the direction of the forest. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the Hollow still chasing. What does it want with us?

Sherin could smell the woods now, the sweetness of pines and damp earth mingling in the breeze. The scent drove all the horses on, and at last, they burst into the shadows. But even there, they were not completely safe. The Hollow could still sense their heat. Or could it?

“Everyone, stop and gather!” Sherin shouted. Was this gamble worth taking? She rode towards Reole and said, “It detects our heat. Can you cloak us in snow?”

The mage's eyes widened at the request. “I’ll try,” she said. “The air is wet enough.” Without needing any urging, she lifted both hands and waved.

Snow began to coalesce from the air. It fell in gentle drifts at first, but then she gritted her teeth and redoubled her efforts, crystallising more snow out of the air. Then it began to pelt like a proper snowfall, and there were a few quiet gasps as it began, some even holding their hands out to catch the flakes.

All around, Sherin could feel the tension mounting as everyone huddled closer in that startling cold. She was starting to shiver, and she pulled her riding cloak tighter around her.

The wind howled through the leaves and undergrowth as the Hollow skimmed across the tops of the trees and fragments of the spirit scattered. Sherin felt a chill deeper than the cold of ice, yet burning hotter than molten iron as they touched her skin. She wanted to scream and run, but she knew she could not, or she would give herself away.

The spirit moved erratically, sweeping across farther canopies in search of a host. Slowly but surely, it was moving farther away. The snow swirled thicker. Reole was swaying. Before she could collapse, another horse had leapt to her side. Its rider, Jasper, caught her as she tumbled from her saddle.

When at last the Hollow swept away with a moan, Sherin finally broke her silence and rode towards Reole. The young woman was out cold, all her energy spent on the spell, and she lay slumped against the knight’s shoulder.

“Is she alright?” asked the Queen.

“She’s breathing,” Jasper replied, voice tight. “What do we do?”

“She’s saved us all. Let us not proceed any further. The forest is a good place for camping.” Normally, people might fear the beasts in these woods, but there were fifteen trained warriors in their company, including one skilled in tracking animals. “Do you think you will be able to carry her to the campsite?”

He glanced at the mage, now half cradled in his arms, and nodded wordlessly. Then he shook her boot out of her stirrup and lifted her onto his saddle.

Stein rode up beside Jasper to inspect, and it only seemed to make his motions shakier. “Lean her head back against yourself—one arm around her waist, the other on your reins, and keep a firm hold,” said the commander, and he did as told, propping Reole’s head against his chestplate.

“Never held a woman before?” laughed Kendral from behind, before Stein shot him a withering look and he rode on past, still smirking.

As the company carried on, the rest began to mumble among themselves about what had just happened. Another Hollow attack. Stein sent a scout group comprised of Kendral, Arion and Leirus ahead. They hiked through the forest till they found a clearing, then returned to lead them there. It was within earshot of the river waters, which would make it convenient to wash up in the morning and water the horses.

Dismounting and tying their horses to the trees, they began to pitch their tents in the secretive quiet under the trees. Stein pitched Sherin’s for her, and Talon lit a smaller campfire and tended it while the rest gathered to finish what was left of their meals.

As soon as she could, Sherin went to find Reole. By then, Jasper had laid her atop her bedroll beside a tree and sat down beside her, keeping watch.

“I do wish I hadn’t asked something so taxing of her,” the queen admitted.

“She did an excellent job even so,” he replied, and she nodded.

It was around then that Reole began to stir. Her eyes flew open, and she sprang upright and breathed, “Is that thing gone? How long was I—” She began to tilt to one side. Lunging, Jasper caught her by the arm before she could topple. She winced and turned away. “I swear I’m not normally like this.”

“You just saved sixteen lives with your magic,” he replied. “I think there is good reason for you to be tired. It almost makes it more impressive.”

When she finally dared meet his eye again, he offered a conciliatory smile. And maybe even someone like Reole couldn’t resist his warmth, and she snorted out a laugh. “It would have been more impressive if I’d remained conscious at the end,” she replied.

Later, in her tent, while the fire guttered and the sounds of sleep rose from outside, Sherin could not stop thinking of the attack, the Hollow swooping down from nowhere. Something must have attracted it—but just what, she could not say yet.

Chapter 3: Marshland Perils

The group continued their journey early the very next day. The scholars had said that the Hollows were more active in the evening, and Stein agreed they should make more of the journey as early in the day as possible.

All that fleeing from the evening day before had taken them quite far along their path, all the way to the woods. Now, they were riding along the bank of Granitepoint River, where they would continue downstream until they reached the westward road near the coast.

By the third day of riding, the knights and mages were talking merrily with each other, no longer acting like separate factions. They had made it as far as where the river widened too much to cross and its banks meandered, girt by wetland that the horses sometimes splashed through when they veered off the beaten track.

“My goodness! Look at all this mud!” Veriana gasped, staring down at the ground as her horse’s hooves ploughed through it.

“Marshes are supposed to be muddy,” muttered Komira, another mage in Sherin’s entourage—a healer. “And besides, this is still relatively dry for a marshland.”

Sherin could tell that everyone was getting bored of all this riding. They had not seen another Hollow since they had left the mountains, and the hours were growing dreary. They began to play word games—stringing together words that shared a starting and ending syllable, trying to make each other guess the words in their heads, and so on.

At some point, they crossed the edge of the mountain province and entered the next, and the architecture began to change. It was here, on the cusp, that they set up to camp.

By the fourth day, the marshland was so wet that there was no clear distinction between river and land. They passed boat houses that rented vessels to travellers, rising on stilts in the shallow water with a hundred boats bobbing, tethered to mazes of jetties.

“Last time I was on a boat was at least twelve years ago,” Reole commented, peering out at the green waters. “My father used to take me to the border and we would boat across the river to sightsee—until I started training as a mage.”

“How old were you when that happened?” asked Stein. “You seem very skilled for your age.”

“She was eight, no older!” Veriana exclaimed. “She had run away from her parents when I met her. I taught her, and she caught on quickly. I thought she must have been tutored already!”

“Veriana…” Reole groaned. “I was a terrible mage as a child. It was your coaching that made me improve.”

“Everyone is a terrible mage as a child,” Veriana laughed. “You were much less terrible than most.”

“We all saw what you did last night,” added Leirus with a grin.

At nineteen, Reole was younger than most who served Sherin as mages. As seen in the forest, when she had overexerted herself in a moment of panic, she was strong but her control was not perfectly refined.

Sherin listened as they kept talking about their lives and memories, drifting between clusters of conversations and smiling to see that the company was finally starting to cohere.

The river that had begun in the northeastern mountains was wide as a lake by now, and Sherin knew that they were nearing the westward road. As the sun set, the waxing crescent shone like a sickle blade in the sky, casting what little light it had on the river.

Only the sound of sloshing water and croaking frogs drifted upon the air. They stopped to hunt, dine, and camp, Talon weaving through the campground to light everyone's torches. Veriana was teasing a pair of knights. Stein and his subcommander, Kayon, had joined Komira and Emerald by the fire. The perfume of smoke and cooking mingled with the night breeze.

Then, from beyond the camp, Sherin heard a faint drift of speech on the wind. ”Did you hear that?” she whispered, leaning towards Reole and Veriana to her right. The younger mage nodded, eyes shining in the torchlight. “Do you think it’s dangerous to carry on?”

They were silent, and so were the voices, now. There were short marshland shrubs here, so there might be cover for someone who was watching, the shadows from the moon ever shifting.  But nothing happened for the rest of the meal, and so they finished their dinners and returned to their tents for the night.

***

They waited till the party was asleep to strike. Sherin stirred awake to find herself blinking away the last of some magical sleep, only to find herself gagged and bound.

As she turned to find a group huddled  nearby in masks, she realised who they were: the Shatan Raiders. These bandits captured those travelling with wealth, many training their children in casting sleep spells.

All around her, her captors were watching the low shrubs with blowdart guns in their hands. If any of her party came to rescue her, they would be peppered with darts! She tried to shout, but the gag muffled her cries.

She saw them routing through her packs, and when one pulled out her harp, she cried out.

“She doesn’t want it taken,” said one to another. “That means it must be worth a lot.”

She squirmed, but she was bound too tight.

Then, she saw a flash of a javelin, striking her ropes and splitting them. She inhaled sharply as her bindings came loose. “Close your eyes!” shouted a familiar voice—Veriana. She shut her eyes, and through her eyelids, she saw a blinding light flash and linger, and heard the raiders cry out.

She squirmed free of her ropes and then felt a pair of hands take hers. “Let’s go before they can cast another spell,” said Stein’s voice, and she nodded, and they began to race away, joined by Veriana as the lights faded behind them.

As darts soared past and thudded into the ground, they sprinted back towards the gathering, where the rest had already been roused and readied the horses to run. Sherin leapt astride her horse, and they broke from the marshland and back onto the road at gallop.

“My poor harp,” sighed Sherin, shoulders sagging. “How did this happen?”

“It was a sleep spell,” said Emerald. “I was able to break mine in my dreams—I know such a spell when I feel one.”

“I offer my most gracious apologies, Your Majesty,” said Stein, head bowed. “We jeopardised your life due to our negligence.”

Sherin shook her head. “You could not have done anything about a sleep spell.”

By now, they were at least five miles downstream from the ambush point, but they did not slow their gallop until the sun began to light the road pink and they had doubled that distance.

Chapter 4: Plains and Dreaming

It was a few uneasy days of riding down the westward road out of the marshlands. Everyone still buzzed with fear that another band of raiders might recapture them.

By now, the road had veered away from the snaking river. They continued westward through plains for two days. By day, there was a great deal of talking, to while the hours away. Reole still hung back at Sherin’s side, and while the mages treated her as a friend, she hardly talked to the knights.

“What’s the matter?” asked Sherin on their third day of westward riding, when the young woman came sulking to her side after breakfast.

She frowned. “I don’t like them. Especially Kendral. He keeps saying things about my face.”

“Bad things?”

“No, he is running out of ways to call me pretty.”

“Is that not a compliment?”

Reole ground her teeth. “I want them to see more than my face! I have heard them talking over the fire. They speak as if women are just there for them to protect.”

Sherin frowned. “You are capable of protecting yourself, and so are all of my mages, most of whom are women. And if he has not seen that, then that is a feat of stupidity on his part. But Kendral aside, how are the rest?”

The mage sighed. “Only Stein and Jasper are bearable. The rest are either dull or obnoxious.”

“Fair enough,” Sherin murmured, “but I think I agree.”

Towards the late afternoon, the company began to observe that the plains were fading, the grass now growing in clumps amid poor arid earth. The weather was already becoming noticeably drier. A river ran to their left, and the southern side of the road was far more forested than the north, a strange sight to behold.

***

In the evening, the company left the road to meet the river, setting up their camps away from the bushes. 

“From here, it is a day’s travel through the arid plains,” said Stein, riding to the front of the pack. “We shall follow the river that runs to our south. That should take us to Mutushui. Let us go gather supplies and water our horses.“

Once they had stocked up on water and supplies, they forged forth into the arid plains.

At first, the going was fine. Everyone talked merrily about their escape from the raiders, and how well they had worked together. Sherin often sang folk songs as the hours grew hotter, especially when they broke to eat, though she missed the accompaniment of her harp. The singing reminded her of her daughter at home, her life hanging in the balance.

But by the end of the day, it was clear the exhaustion of riding in the dry heat was catching up to them. Everyone was quiet, some looking dangerously close to fainting. Even with the river running beside them, bringing cool, and the thin grass allowing for grazing here and there, there was little to break up the pounding of the heat. Now and then, Reole drew up a spout of water from the river and scattered a blast of snow across the company, but she only did it every half hour or so. Everyone began to look forward to the cool reprieve they brought.

They pressed on past nightfall, till the first silhouettes of straggly trees began to show along the banks of the river once more. There, they gathered to camp in a space not far from the waterline, their sluggish horses gratefully grazing. As soon as Sherin lay down, her eyes closed, and she sank into sleep.

 

After a few hours of blissful, dreamless sleep, the dreams began to come. First, she was searching for her harp on her back, but found it was not there, then remembered that it had been stolen. She thought of the songs she liked to play, trying to recall one that she could sing without it.

Then, she inhaled, and began to sing:

“Com forth, life,
Come forth and fill the sea
Come forth, sound
Come forth and paint the skies…”

The song was grand and solemn, and the tune was intimately familiar, though she knew she had never sung it before. Her heart raced with every line that her voice unfolded.

Then all the sounds vanished, the lights winking out as her eyes flew open. The strange silence that greeted her ears jerked her awake. It was early morning, and the horizon was a streak of rose. Outside, she could already hear some talking. Stretching, she crawled to her feet and stepped out into the cool of dawn. While she washed up, Stein began to pack her tent, tying it back onto her horse’s saddle.

The rest of the company made short work of their own tents, and soon, they were on their way once more. Now they had passed the arid plains, Sherin remembered from her studies of geography, they were less than a day from the town of Mutushui.

With the heat dwindling, they did not tire so fast. All sixteen carried on, and again they began to talk, though their conversation carried a sombre tone this time.

“Your Majesty,” said Jasper, riding to her side. “How long do you think that we have to find the cure? Are we making enough haste?"

She inhaled deeply, willing the dread away. “I do not quite know, except that the scholars said it is a young Hollow that has taken hold of her, and it will take time to learn how to control her body—perhaps a moon, perhaps less.”

He shuddered. “What frightful creatures,” he said. “Where do they come from?”

“Under the mountain.” She only noticed Reole when she spoke, joining Sherin on her other side. “The scholars say they are incubated in the belly of the world, and they crawl their way up through the caves.”

“What else have they told you about them?” Sherin asked.

“That they take control of the body like a disease—an incurable one, once the madness takes hold.”

Sherin felt her body go numb. “We still have at least a week. More, hopefully.”

“We could make it back in time if we return by the northeast road,” Jasper said, and the queen nodded.

But there’s so much more than that, thought Sherin. How about all the other victims? How do I remove all of them?

Reole seemed to have noticed the change in her demeanour, and she reached out to touch her arm, though she did not seem to know what words to say. All was silent again, except for the clipping of hooves and the sound of the river, which was widening again to its original girth. Onward they galloped, towards Mutushui, the last town between here and their destination of Qianqiang.

 

Chapter 5: The Grassland Serpent

They carried on like this for two days, charging onward through the increasingly verdant grassland. The heat was dwindling, and the going was getting easier, though the song still haunted Sherin’s dreams now and then.

On the third night, the moon was now waxing, covering the plains in a bone-white glow. As they slowed in the dark to set up camp, Sherin thought she heard something in the distance, like metal slinking over earth.

She turned back. “Did you hear that?” she asked, but the knights only glanced at her and shook their heads.

Sherin had always had an exceptional sense of hearing. She could always tell when a harp string was about to be tightened too far, and had never snapped one in her life. She knew she had not imagined the noise, but because no one noticed, she returned her attention to the tents.5 out, and Sherin whipped around to see a huge snakelike creature hurtling into the firelight. No sooner than she had turned did the creature strike, knocking a screaming Kendral from his horse.

At once, the knights whirled around and encircled the snake. Kendral was on the ground, crawling to his knees, when the snake’s fangs tore through his ribs, and Sherin closed her eyes as he gave a choking cry, knowing there would be no saving him from a strike like that.

“Javelins!” bellowed Stein, and he was answered by the clink of weapons. All across the dark battlefield, the thorn-sharp blades flew and embedded themselves in the beast’s scaly hide. On either side of Sherin, Talon and Reole drew their staves, and behind them, Emerald thrust a hand over her head to cast a spell.

The snake’s motions grew sluggish, as if it were crawling through mud. Its head swung wide of Stein, whose horse sprang to avoid it. Its tail lashed, and Stein was felled from his horse, though Reole immediately rode to intercept the next lash, freezing its tail to the ground with a plaque of icy spikes.

All the while, Sherin waited behind the wall of defenders. The snake’s fangs flicked up, and a jet of venom sprayed over a cavalier who cowered, screaming, with his hands clawing at his face while his choking dwindled. Suddenly, childhood stories began to flood back through Sherin’s mind—tales of these beasts of the plains that killed hundreds every year, with poison so lethal it could kill in seconds. Its scales were thick as armour plate, but it had a soft spot at its neck, where its throat had to expand to contain its swallowed prey.

“The neck is its weak spot!” she shouted.

Stein glanced at her and nodded, and he declared, “Aim for its neck!”

Then another rain of javelins flew, and as it reared back, it was Leirus’s javelin that landed true, striking it in the throat, drawing blood. While its head was lashing about like the end of a rope, Stein pointed to Jasper—closest to the snake—and bellowed, “Use your sword!”

He nodded quickly and drew his sword, halting as the creature coiled back and swayed in confounding waves. Sherin wondered if he was frozen by fear. But then she realised he was not trembling but making a calculation.

Then he flicked his reins, and as his horse bolted forth, he shot under its throat and leapt on his feet in his stirrups. With his arms, he thrust the sword up to impale its throat, with enough force to slit a long gash through its neck pouch.

The snake gave another sputtering hiss, then collapsed off the end of Jasper’s sword and thudded on the ground.

The snake’s great body glimmered under the moonlight, stark against the dark earth. Sherin rode cautiously towards her defenders and saw the long, serpentine body stretched across the ground.

The group was dismounting to gather their fallen comrades. Three had perished in that fight: Kendral, Sky, and Cerillis. All had lost their lives in her defence, as was their duty. But witnessing it in person was different from hearing news from frontlines. Tears pooled in her eyes as she dismounted to join them.

“The fallen deserve the highest honour,” she said. “Let their memory never be forgotten.” The knights dug the graves, and everyone bowed their heads as the bodies were buried, flowers gathered to be laid upon them. But the journey could not end here. The remaining thirteen reassembled their campsite, and they turned in for an uneasy sleep.

 

Not long after dawn the next day, Sherin sighted square buildings on the horizon, in the pink light of dawn. The day was already beginning to grow hot. Reole rode at her side again, and she turned to the mage and pointed. “Do you see it?” she asked.

“Is that Mutushui?”

She nodded. “If we hurry, we’ll make it before sunset.”

Everyone began to chatter. After a short drink from the ever-widening river, they sped on towards the square roofs, spurred by the sight of town streets.

The thirteen galloped through the gates of Mutushui in the last heat of the afternoon, rolling off the plains, trailed by a cloud of dust. There was a royal waystation in the heart of the city, and its doors would be open to the queen and her entourage anytime. Everyone was in bad need of a place to drink and rest after more than a week’s tireless riding.

“Your Majesty!” declared the station attendant once Stein had identified the company to him. “We have been awaiting you—the letter arrived just a day ahead.”

“Never could outrun the falcons,” Sherin answered with a smile. The troop dismounted as they passed through the gate. Stein took the queen's horse with a bow, and the attendant led them to the stables with their mounts.

While some of their entourage went to the tavern to refresh themselves, others made straight for their rooms. Lamplight lit every hall and room a warm yellow. Looking at her clothes, Sherin realised how dirty they had gotten from riding. She bathed in the private bath house and then changed, bundling her laundry with the rest and sending it for washing. Then she brushed her long blonde hair out and tied it back up with her ribbon.

When her eyes crossed the bed, Sherin relented, deciding to catch a few winks before joining them.

Those few winks became two hours’ sleeping, in which she dreamt of that song again, and when she finally woke again, the sun had set, and she could no longer remember the melody.

Chapter 6: Harbour Prophecies

By noon the next day, Sherin had had a missive sent ahead to the harbour of Mutushui. The next ship would leave in the morning, so they would be rooming for a night at the customs house. The company returned the keys, and then they were on the sandy roads again, charging onward to the adjoining harbour.

The riverside promenade went on unbroken, passing beaches and swooping cliffs, the wind now carrying the tang of the ocean. All the while, the pounding and crashing of waves sang in their ears, and the salty wind whipped hair and cloaks about.

Since the fight against the serpent, there had ceased to be a divide within the group, and they freely changed positions in the guard, taking turns to lead, flank and follow.

The group soon reached the estuary where the river emptied out into the sea. Just beyond the river mouth, the harbour sat on a peninsula. The light of the summer sun, setting well past dinner these days, shone through veils of thin clouds, pointing them southwest through the evening.

Drawing into the harbour, they could already see the ships sitting in the wharves, their towering masts silhouetted against the glowing sky with all their sails furled. Gulls cawed as they swooped through the air, a sound Sherin had not heard since childhood.

The evening bustle buzzed around them as they picked their way down the busy streets, among staring strangers, towards the customs house where the letter had been addressed. All the while, Sherin saw Reole staring wide-eyed about. “I’ve never seen the ocean before,” she said. “Have you, Queen Sherin?”

Sherin nodded, trying to draw up these faint memories from deep in her memory. “When I was a child, I would ride to the southern coast with my father,” she replied, recalling trips through the woods and rainforest, then southward to the booming coast and its teeming towns. “He was a merchant. He took me on his merchantry trips with him, especially after my mother died, before we settled in the town of Granitepoint.”

Reole turned. “How did you become the queen if you were a merchant’s daughter?” she asked.

Sherin smiled fondly. “My father was not just any merchant. He was good friends with the previous king, Baeren—Arefiel’s father—and had frequent dealings with the castle. They bought many of his textiles. When I was fifteen, during the Festival of Summer, my father was given the privilege of setting up several stalls. While he was mingling with the royals, I was by the river, practising my harp and singing to myself. Baeren took a walk with his son and my father and found me singing. He introduced us—me and Arefiel. And that is how I met the man who became my husband.”

“That is a long way from marrying someone, though,” Reole said.

“I’ll tell you the rest someday,” Sherin replied. The company had slowed to a stop before the soaring pillars of the customs house. “For now I must go ensure our arrangements have been made.”

***

Her message had arrived safe and sound, and a ship would be there to take them an hour before midday the next morning.

Sherin managed to wake at sunrise, and by then, half the company had also awakened. As they rode out onto the streets, the queen was startled to find a small crowd teeming at the gate, the customs manager struggling to hold them at bay.

“What’s the matter?” called Sherin, coming up beside him.

“The village seer wishes to send you a message!” cried one of the women on the street. The knights and mages scowled down at the crowd, but Sherin found herself leaning closer.

“Do not heed them,” the customs manager said.

Sherin shook her head and waved for him to stand down. “Where is the seet?” she asked the woman.

From the midst of the crowd, an old woman came forth, wearing a long black gown, her back stooped with age. “Greetings, Your Majesty,” she said, bowing low.

“At ease,” she replied, and the seer rose. Sherin dismounted, and when her feet landed on the ground, she waved for the woman to follow her back towards the stables. Her knights parted for them as they walked by, but they did not begin speaking till they were out of earshot.

“I received a prophecy three days ago, and was told to deliver it to you when you arrived in Mutushui,” said the seer as they walked. “But first, I must tell you a tale few know. Have you heard the legend of the four deities?”

“I have been taught there are three—the triad,” Sherin replied. “When they came into the world, they sang stars and worlds into being.” 

The seer shook her head. “This tale begins well before our world began. Long ago, so long that the years cannot be counted, there were only two things—chaos, and a tiny point of light in the corner of the universe: a hole into another. Through the hole, three spirits passed through. They had no definite form, but they were made of power. Together, they saw that this new universe had the potential to become something grander, something their old universe could not be. And together, they began to bring it to order, shaping stars, suns, and worlds.

“But this universe was not devoid of life at all. A fourth spirit lived there: the Chaos that revelled in the universe with nothing in it. It saw the three spirits forming order, and it was filled with rage. So it charged forth and fought the three.

“The battle lasted eons, but at last, the three spirits vanquished the Chaos and banished it into the universe from which they had come while they continued to shape the worlds: Isola, goddess of light, Aderrion, goddess of life, and Qualiomar, goddess of death. But the Chaos was livid at having had a universe taken away.”

Sherin listened intently. At this point, the seer paused.

“Here is where my message starts. When the three spirits banished Chaos to the other universe, they did not know it was a mistake. That universe is where all dead souls go. It was only hollow and vast at first, but once the Chaos had entered it, it destroyed every landscape, turning it ugly. Now, all the dead go to a place of horror, where the Chaos torments them.”

“But why do you wish to tell me this?”

“Before Chaos left, it left a part of itself in this universe. It tore fragments of itself out and sent them into the world as Hollows. Then, in the world of the dead, it continued to make these creatures, amassing a force to someday destroy the universe.

“Now, the hole that the goddesses used to send the Chaos back could not be closed, for they were weakened by the battle, and so they built a world around it, and hid it under the tallest mountain in the land. That is our world, Your Majesty. But have you not noticed the sudden swell in their numbers? Originally, there were very few Hollows in the world, but their numbers have grown recently. I fear that the worst has happened. The Chaos, though it has been weakened, has regained power. It still has not widened the hole enough to pass through, but its Hollows have slowly cleared away the blockage, carving caves in the mountain, and now they are crawling from the world of the dead into ours, and preparing for the arrival of their master. Perhaps the Chaos is almost ready to tear the hole open and come. If that should happen, our universe and all that lives in it would be doomed. And doomed we are.”

Sherin took a while to take in this information and realise it wasn’t just a story out of a book. Feeling dizzy with fear, she inhaled. “But why do you tell me this? What can I do?”

“Because of another prophecy I received years ago,” she replied. “That a queen and her one daughter would be the last hope of a world about to die. I think it is you that it prophesies,” she answered. Her eyes were fathoms of hope. “Your lineage has the triad’s power in your blood, after all.”

“But can’t the triad defeat the Chaos again?”

“Not since the first time they banished it,” the seer replied, shaking her head. “They weakened the Chaos with the Song of Awakening, but to sing it once was hard enough. To sing it twice—once to create life, and once to drive the Chaos away—took too most of their power. It was like casting the grandest spell in the world. You see, the goddesses are not feeling beings: they lack emotion entirely. But without emotion, the song was weak, and the triad had to draw from their own power to strengthen its magic. So, my queen, they cannot be the ones to do it again.”

Sherin could feel a shiver travelling up her neck. She gave an earnest nod. “I understand,” she replied, “and I thank you for telling me.” Then she wished the seer goodbye, and hurried back to her entourage, unease creeping over her.

How can that be right? She asked herself as she mounted again. I cannot do something the goddesses can’t do!

Chapter 7: Fair-Weather Seas

Even facing the sea, Mutushui’s harbour was still dry, and it was twice as hot as it ever got in Granitepoint. Only the sea breeze made the waiting in the dockyard bearable, while the ship—a three-masted brigantine, provisioned to carry the group and their horses—was prepared for their entry.

They rode up the wide gangplank in single file, and their horses were taken to the hold. The members of the retinue was shown to a cabin, two at a  time. The knights and mages roomed among themselves, but there was an odd number of each, so Veriana and Stein were put together, as the most senior members of their respective factions, and Sherin received a room of her own.

As the ship glided away in the morning glow, Sherin returned to the deck. But she could already feel her head swimming with dizziness with every lurch of the vessel, her feet stumbling on the boards. Before long, she realised she would need a guide, so she squinted about across the rocking deck.

She soon spied Reole and Jasper talking at the stern. By the looks of it, it was an agreeable conversation. Either of them would do well as her assistant for the day—she hoped they would not mind her interruption.

But long before she had stumbled her way to them, the mage had marched off towards the rearmast. The knight’s gaze followed her as she departed.

“Jasper, thank the gods,” Sherin breathed.

Jasper’s eyes flew to Sherin as she ambled up beside him. “Your Majesty, good morning,” he said with a bow of his head. He wasn’t wearing his armour today, and he looked rather at ease without the weight of metal on him.

“May I have your arm?” she asked, and he offered it up. She took it at once, inhaling deeply. “This vessel is not kind to me. If it isn’t too much trouble, would you guide me around until I’ve gotten my sealegs?”

“Of course,” he replied, though he was looking past her.

“You have my utmost gratitude,” she replied. “It’s quite a fine morning for sailing. Though, I hope you are well since the battle… Jasper?”

She had realised by now that he was not paying her attention at all. Raising an eyebrow, she turned to follow his gaze, and found Reole at the rearmast, speaking to the trimmers with gestures and pointing.

Then she looked back at Jasper and found him smiling fondly at the mage.

“What are you so entranced by?” Sherin asked.

His gaze snapped back to Sherin, and he immediately looked embarrassed. “Nothing, Your Majesty—my apologies. What did you say earlier?” But his eyes darted past the queen again.

“It’s no matter, you clearly have more important things to ponder,” she said, and he blushed. “In a few minutes, I would like to go below decks to investigate our breakfast options. Now, if you’ll just remember to look where you’re walking.”

***

When night fell aboard the ship, Sherin turned her thoughts back to the story the seer had told her. Was she really the subject of a prophecy? Was she to stop the Chaos together with Myphene? Where was this gateway that had suddenly come unblocked?

All of Sherin’s thoughts were in a whirl as she picked her way across the deck, still hanging onto Jasper’s arm, and back down to her room. The knight had been completely uncomplaining so far, but she could tell he was waiting for his chance to leave. She dismissed him at the door with an exchange of greetings. Then, lying down upon her bed, she began to sing a song to settle her spinning vision—one she had loved since her childhood.

“Early morning in the village,
Townsfolk turn without a word
O’er them all, a voice rings clear:
The joy-song of the blue songbird.”

She was lulling herself to sleep with her own singing. Before she reached the chorus, her eyes had closed, and she fell asleep as the ship coursed on. In her dreams, that strange song pounded again, louder and louder with every mile.

***

Sherin woke up early the next morning. The mist over the ship was beginning to clear, and she could already see the gulls swooping low between the masts and ropes, a sure sign they were approaching the shore.

By the time they arrived at the harbour, everyone was awake. Sherin gathered her entourage, and Stein made a headcount before leading them down the gangplank.

“Now, we ride north to Qianqiang,” the commander announced. As they broke into a steady trot, the crowds parted for the retinue, and there were few obstructions from here to the northbound road. On either side of that wide road stretched more plains, their ends farther than they could see, their hoofbeats thundering to fill the morning silence.

A pall had hung over the group ever since three of their party had perished. With only seven knights left, the group was more evenly split between knights and mages. She found Stein and Jasper talking in hushed tones about their fallen comrades. Their heads lifted when she arrived beside them.

It had never been so visceral until now, the notion of these knights laying their lives on the line for Sherin’s sake. And now, knowing that death was not rest but torture, the guilt gnawed ever harder upon her. “We must not return until we have the answer,” she said. “Their deaths will not be in vain, I swear it.”

Jasper nodded solemnly. “How far is it from here to Qianqiang?”

“Half a day, if my memory serves. The port provisions Qianqiang, and shipments must be moved within a day.”

“And there is a way-station there, too,” Stein added. “So we shall be welcome for as long as we need.”

“Your Majesty?” came a tentative voice from her left. “Am I intruding?” Sherin turned to find that Reole had rode up alongside them.

“Reole! Hello,” Jasper said. “Did you rest well?”

“As well as the ship’s bunks could possibly allow,” she replied.

“How did you find the ship?” Sherin followed. “We hardly got to talk while we were underway.”

To her surprise, Reole laughed. “That’s because you were feeling ill for most of it,” she said. “But it was quite exciting. I’ve never been aboard a ship before. A shame it was such a hard time for you.” Then she turned to Jasper. “Did you get to enjoy the view, at least, in between chaperoning Her Majesty?”

Sherin smiled as she watched Jasper search for an answer, his eyes leaving the road.

By now, Stein had quietly veered away. “A good day to you both,” she put in, accelerating to join the rest of her mages up ahead.

Chapter 8: The Lake City

As soon as Qianqiang came into view in the evening mist, they saw the fabled Shuijing Lake, upon whose coast the city sat, like a mirror reflecting the sky.

Almost at once, Sherin knew that something was afoot. The southern reaches of the city glowed brighter than they should, and it occurred to her that the lights seemed to be coming from a particular street at the same time as the scent of smoke hit her.

“A fire,” Sherin breathed, and her knights and mages sped to a gallop, soaring through the city gates. The houses were blazing like wildfires, the flames leaping from one walled garden to another. Smoke and mist mingled, turning the air smoggy. People were milling on the streets, some weeping, others cradling bawling infants.

“Arson! It was arson!” bellowed a man from up the street. “I saw the arsonist go that way!” He pointed back up the street he had come from.

In that same moment, Sherin became aware of a loud rumbling nearby. Before she understood, Stein spurred her horse with his boot, and they all sprang away to the other side of the street as a blackened section of roof plummeted and smashed into a thousand sparks and splinters behind them.

Sherin sat frozen with shock atop her horse, heart pounding madly. Around her, her companions leapt to action. Half the knights raced about, carrying civilians out of the houses. Nearby, Talon siphoned fire out of the air, and Reole twirled her staff in two hands, a rush of cold rain blowing from it as it spun to put out the flames on the closest facade.

Suddenly, through all the noise, she heard a sound—a shrieking from the next street that sounded like only one creature she knew of.

Her knights had heard it too. Stein turned in the direction of the one who had made the noise, and he pointed as a tiny figure—a child—shot across the street and stopped in the middle, letting out that horrific shriek again.

A victim of a Hollow—she was sure of it now. Propelled by some hot compulsion, she flicked her reins and spurred her horse in the direction of the child, who was curled up in the middle of the street, seemingly waiting for carriages to hit her.

She leapt off her horse, despite Stein’s protests from behind. “Oh, Isola, help me,” she gasped. “I know I am meant to do this, but I do not know what to do.” The child, turning at the sight of a woman kneeling beside her, whirled and threw a punch. Her lip broke, and salty blood flowed down her teeth.

The goddesses had weakened Chaos with the Song of Awakening. And the Song of Awakening…was the song she had been hearing in her dreams.

She could not remember the melody, only the words—but the words had to do for now…

“Come forth, life,” she breathed, syllables tumbling out.
“Come forth and fill the sea
Come forth, sound,
Come forth and paint the skies…”

The child shrieked, and her jaw opened like a hinge. From her mouth, a blackness began to pour through, then drifts of grey dust, and she coughed and wheezed, till the occlusive cloud hung in the air above her.

For a few seconds, Sherin stared at the billowing dust. The girl groaned as she lifted her head. “Th—thank you,” she stammered, tears running down her face. “I thought it would claw my soul out of my body, for sure.”

Sherin rose to her feet, but she swayed with exhaustion. “Be safe, child,” she whispered, walking unsteadily back towards her horse, beside which Stein was watching, mouth hanging open.

An hour later, the mages had put out the fires, and it seemed most residents were accounted for, including the girl, who was returned to her weeping parents. Sherin could still taste blood on her tongue. A small price to pay, she thought, watching the girl’s parents clutch her.

As they lay in their inn in Qianqiang that night, the magnitude of Sherin’s discovery was beginning to dawn on her. They did say that the Shuijing Lake could answer every question, and as they had neared it, the song had grown louder in her dreams. That song—it was the Song of Awakening, and with it, she could scatter Hollows. The answer had shown itself as they had entered its mists.

With only its lyrics, she had destroyed a Hollow and freed a child from possession. If only she could recall the tune…

Feverishly, she began to jot down the words, then a dozen different versions of the melody in the notation style she had learned as a child, but none of them sounded quite right when she hummed them.

By the time she gathered her knights and mages in the hall downstairs the next day, word had spread of what she had done, and she explained the rest. There were questions from all around as she spoke, about how she had learned it and how it worked, many of which she could not answer. She began to teach the words of the song to her comrades—it did not hurt for as many people as possible to know it, though she wasn't sure if they could cast its spell without having heard it.

“But now,” she said, “we must return to Granitepoint.”

But is it too late yet?

Chapter 9: Higher Ground

Late the next morning, Sherin's company was readying once more to depart. It seemed Stein had shared the need for haste with the entire group, for they moved quickly as they left the city and reentered the road that swooped northeast past the castle. This time, they would take the northeastern route through the mountain ranges back to Granitepoint, which was much shorter, if more treacherous.

The journey northeast was only slightly more eventful than the one westward through the plains, and as they moved, the air was filled with many simultaneous conversations. Sherin turned to Reole, who still rode at her left hand, and said, “You did wonderfully during the fire.”

She shrugged. “I think I did what I could,” she replied.

“I should note,” Sherin went on, “that I view you this way even outside of such situations. You are an excellent mage. Veriana has always seen it, and I do, too. That is why I chose you to wait on me.”

Reole allowed herself a smile. She gazed out along their path at the sparkling ribbon of water flowing away into the blue distance. The sun was climbing higher in the dome of the sky, but with moderate cloud coverage, it was not as hot as it could have been. “Happy to serve.”

“I never actually got to know how you came to be in the castle,” Sherin said. “I only heard you had run away.”

The mage swallowed, and it seemed she was more worried about explaining than she should be. Finally, she said, “My parents are count and countess of the fiefdom just southeast of Granitepoint—in the town of Melion.”

“Dioras and Ampheris?” Sherin said, eyes widening. “I lived in Melion before my father moved his business to Granitepoint. Ampheris was a dear friend!”

“Your Majesty?” asked Reole. “You know my mother?”

Sherin nodded. She still recalled the wedding of Ampheris to Dioras, the count’s son, the very same year Sherin herself had been introduced to Arefiel. She had been a maid at the wedding. And when she herself had left to marry her now-husband and moving to Granitepoint, it had gotten even harder to meet.

Smiling at the memory, she looked back at Reole. “I never thought to imagine that her own daughter was serving me! But why did you flee them?”

Reole sighed. “I am sorry that I have to say this of my mother, who is your friend,” she said. “But I could not stand to be in their home. All they wanted me to do was sit and be pretty, to prepare to marry into wealth. I wanted nothing to do with that. But I didn’t quite flee—they know I am here. I was adamant about leaving to train as a mage. Maybe my mother acceded because she knew you…”

Sherin had never known any of this about Reole. Suddenly, she could see the similarities between Ampheris and her daughter. They both had an exacting, pessimistic streak, though she did not mind it. She looked passingly similar to her mother, too—brown hair, graceful features, and the kind of face that turned heads, no matter what she believed.

“So, you are a noble,” Sherin said.

Reole grimaced. “I would rather not be one,” she replied. “Sorry, Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect.”

“Not at all,” Sherin said, shaking her head. “It is refreshing to be spoken to in this way. But knowing who your mother is—she was like a sister to me—I feel rather like I am looking at my niece.” In some ways, she always had, even before knowing this.

At this, the mage managed a smile. They continued to talk as they rode, and for those few hours, she forgot about the journey, about the dread lying ahead.

 

That night, as they camped for the night, they found that their food stores would not last them more than a day. Then, Leirus and Emerald were sent to hunt, for a few days ago, the mage had mentioned she could use her powers to lure animals out of hiding. Leirus knew how to turn any rope into a snare, and he brought his hunting spear as they vanished into the straggly woods.

While the pair busied themselves with hunting and trapping, the rest gathered to light the campfire, all ten chattering among themselves. The last fortnight of journeying had created a camaraderie that seemed to grow every day. Stein, Veriana and Talon were happily talking about the mountain wildlife. The quiet Komira and the almost equally withdrawn Glen were in conversation, too.

In a corner, she saw Reole and Jasper sitting together, and she began to watch them in interest. Reole looked uncommonly agreeable, even laughing as they talked. And Jasper was hanging onto her every word, eyes seeming to forget the rest of the campground existed for a while.

An hour later, Leirus and Emerald returned with a net full of rabbits. The rest received the fresh meat with rowdy thanks and gathered to begin the roast, chatter swelling among them. With the climate turning cold and dry again, the fire brought welcome warmth, and Sherin sat gratefully near it while stretching her legs.

Even though she had often travelled on horseback with her father, she had never been so far from Granitepoint before. These long stretches of land were hard and harsh, with few places suitable for rest. But the rabbit Sherin ate satiated her hunger and warmed her. Content, she returned to her tent long before the eating was over and fell into a restless sleep.

***

Sherin woke well before sunrise the next day, and her heart was booming in her ears. Only their watchers, Micah and Glen, were awake at this time. Seeing that she was up and about, they went to wake the rest of the party.

Soon, they were riding northeast towards the mountain road. The tents had been packed poorly, and some of the entourage were still drowsy, and Sherin knew they were only making haste because they knew her daughter’s life was at stake.

Now and then, Emerald lifted a hand for minutes at a time to rouse the horses with a spell. She was measured, and she never exerted herself or the beasts more than she had to. Each time she cast a spell, Sherin felt cool waves of her power washing past, her aches and pains lifting along with the horses’. Still, she could see that she was taking on the exhaustion of the party in their stead, and very soon, she rode with an arched back, dark rings around her eyes.

The ground here was already getting rockier, and the grass had grown thin. Even the riverbanks were steeper than before. Now, the weather was growing chilly with the rare mountain air again. Though it was colder in Granitepoint, she was no longer used to the temperature after the time they had spent in the southern cities. Every now and then, they rested to allow the horses a drink, but with Emerald’s periodic refreshment, they made it to the mountains by early night.

“Excellent work,” Stein called out to an exhausted company of knights and mages. “We may reach Granitepoint within three days.”

“Perhaps in time to save my daughter,” Sherin added. She put on a calm, brave face as she said this, but as soon as she had finished her dinner and was back in her tent, her mind began to reel. What is the tune of the Song of Awakening? How will I be able to sing it in full and carry its power, when the triad of goddesses cannot? And the greatest, most nagging thought in her mind was, Are the goddesses mistaken? How can it be me?

Sherin tried to close her eyes and sleep, hoping some of her questions might be answered in her slumber. Sleep did claim her soon, but it was only filled with echoes of the Song, and more mysteries.

Chapter 10: The Mountain Pathway

At the first ray of sunlight, Sherin tore her eyes open and rose, unease burning through her body. When she woke, the rest of the company did, the earliest risers going to rouse the rest of the camp. The whole company had risen in a minute, and Stein once again led them onward in the sunrise.

The path was growing too steep for a full gallop. The loose rocks around them made it hard for the horses to find footing. They slowed to a trot, and the thirteen began up towards the saddle point of a valley, the first of many rises along their road back to Granitepoint.

But now, familiarity with the terrain took over, and every horse in the party was sure-footed, knowing the right places to step. They had made it halfway up the rise by noon, despite the slower going. They were almost at the Mountain Pathway now: a huge stone road threaded through valleys between the peaks of the Skypoint Range. It led gradually uphill as the mountains grew taller, tunnels cutting through mountains in places. Along that road, they would reach Granitepoint in no time.

As the sun was sinking, they finally rose in full view of the mountain road, which stretched like a stone ribbon into the mist. It was a treacherous strip of rock, its width enough for four horses to walk side-by-side, but thin enough to strike fear into anyone travelling its length, with only ropes to keep one from tumbling off the edge. Even Sherin herself felt jittery at the height of the drop.

The travel went by faster as time passed and their confidence grew, though they still travelled in single file. Up that high, the air was dry and piercing, and the clouds hung not far above. The vegetation grew sparse and scraggly, only the most tenacious of grasses and evergreens surviving up here.

Within the next hour, they had reached the second valley, and the sun was about to touch the horizon behind them. From their vantage, the lower peaks behind them revealed the last traces of sun, small slivers of the sea they had left behind glimmering between. Clouds floated like wisps of silk strands dyed orange at the tips. Skypoint Mountain rose out of the grey, almost seeming too tall to exist. Looking down over the edge of the Pathway, Sherin felt as if she were floating high in the air.

“Is there any time to reach Skypoint Mountain?” she asked Stein, pointing ahead at the peak that soared ahead and to the right of their path.

He shook his head. “It would be another two hours. We should rest.” Sherin nodded. The sky was already turning purple, and soon they would not be able to see two steps in front of them.

Then he turned to the troop and waved for Talon. With a spark, flames exploded to life on the tip of his torch, and the rest took torches of their own from their packs, passing the flame along. As the warm light spread, they began to gather by the mountain face and search for the materials for a campfire—fallen branches from the sparse trees and clumps of mountain plants were all they could find. These would not last for long.

“I’ll go search for some more wood,” Glen volunteered from the edge of the clearing.

“I’ll come with you,” Veriana put in, already rising. “You’ll need light if your torch goes out.”

The two then left to wind their ways down the mountain slopes, vanishing around the nearest corner. In the cold, everyone was huddling close to the flames, some leaning together with cloaks gathered around their shoulders.

Before long, Reole arrived and sat down beside Sherin, staring pensively into their weak campfire. When the queen shuffled closer and began warming her hands on the flame, she looked enviously at the queen’s fleece shoulder blanket. Sherin obliged to lay one half around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Reole said, pulling biscuits from the pack between her legs. Talon passed fire-dried rabbit around, and though it was hard on her teeth, Sherin found it a hearty meal in the biting mountain cold.

“A little chilly after the southern plains,” the queen murmured. Across the fire, some knights were telling stories, and a laugh drew Reole’s eye. “Home cannot come soon enough. You know, it occurred to me that you are Arefiel’s second cousin once-removed. I wonder what he would think…”

She shook her head. “I’d rather it not be known around the castle. I like my life as a common mage.”

“Of course. But you’re hardly a ‘common’ mage.”

There was more laughter across the campfire, and one of the knights turned from the conversation to look in their direction. It was Jasper, and when his eyes found Reole’s, he smiled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reole break into a smile herself, then turn away first, rubbing her neck. Sherin had never seen such a look on her face before.

“What do you think of him?” asked Sherin.

“Him? Jasper?” Sherin nodded. Reole’s brow furrowed, though she was still smiling. “He’s odd. Most knights don’t think I’m worth much.”

Sherin laughed. “The day you passed out, he carried you all the way to the campsite.”

“That was him?” Reole’s eyes darted again to the knight, who had looked away by now, and her face scrunched up. “He…makes me feel odd, too.”

Veriana and Glen returned not long after, carrying an armful of wood each, but as soon as they arrived, it became clear their motions were erratic with fear. Glen dropped the entire pile of wood by the fire and flew to Komira’s side to present his arm.

“We were attacked,” said Veriana, words rolling from her tongue in a panic. “There was a village down the hills. We found piles of sticks in an open shed, and we thought that surely no one would miss a few. But when we began making away with the bundles, there was a shout! And then a dart hit Glen in the arm!”

Beside Sherin, Reole tensed up. To their right, Komira had plucked the dart out of his arm and was now studying it with a frown. She touched a finger to the bleeding wound, and in a small white flash, began to heal it. A small group had gathered around the pair now, some assisting, others just getting a closer look.

“I didn’t think there were people living on this mountain,” said Sherin. As the fire roared higher and Glen’s face finally settled back into comfort, some resumed eating while others began pitching their tents.

Stomach satisfied at last, Sherin crawled into her tent, which Stein had built for her as always, and tried to sleep on her bedroll inside, though she could feel the jagged stones through the thick cloth. But the exhaustion won, and before she knew it, she was drifting into dreams again.

Chapter 11: The Cave Exiles

Sherin was standing on the mountain’s edge, staring up into the evening sky. Her body moved of its own accord; she held up her right palm to the sky, and a ball of light appeared in it. Vague satisfaction touched her mind, and she turned to look back. A cave mouth yawned behind her, lit by two torches on either side of its entrance. Talking resounded from within.

Then, from nowhere came a familiar screech. It pierced the air like a spear, and out of the stars flew a Hollow, descending straight towards her. Terror seized her as the air turned cold. The blackbird-shaped creature was near, but she could not move a finger.

“Save me!” she cried in an unfamiliar, deep voice. The shout vibrated in her throat as the Hollow dove, beak-first, into her open mouth.

All at once, her insides felt as if they were being scorched and frozen at the same time, but she was still paralysed. Eyes blank, she stared up at the air.

Already, some others had come out of the cave, hearing his shout. Seeing his blankness, though, they doubled back in fear.

“Another one!” one shouted. “Chain him up before the spirit can take control!”

One of the men present raced back into the cave and exited with a long metal chain. He chained up the possessed man, head to toe, and dragged him halfway around the circumference of the mountain. Sherin could feel the man’s heels aching as if they were her own. There, they tied him to a tree, in between two others who had already been chained and were screaming ceaselessly, their eyes rolling and saliva pouring out of their mouths.

Sherin’s eyes flew open. She was staring up at her tent’s roof, the prisoners’ screams still resounding in her mind. Sitting up, she rubbed her forehead.

So, the Hollows were attacking the mountain denizens, too. And they were chaining the possessed to prevent them from harming anyone. But there had to be a better fate for them than being eaten from the inside, wasting away.

At once, Sherin knew what to do. She rose to her feet and pulled her boots on, marching out of her tent.

The air was freezing, and it was still dim, though the dawn was starting to light the sky. No one was awake yet. Here was her chance! She had to be quick, or she would worry the company, or worse, they would stop her from going.

“Come forth life, come forth and fill the world,” she recited to herself as she walked. Even as she spoke the words, she felt a strange buzzing in her heart, warm and vibrating with life, rearing to burst out of her. Sherin strained to keep it leashed, stopping the words short. I must be responsible with this power, or it could destroy me, she rebuked herself. If only I could remember the tune… But she had not dreamt about it in a while.

Warily, she snuck past the tents, then took the path that Veriana and Glen had taken the night before. Careful not to fall, Sherin inched along the ledges, climbing down the crags till she reached a landing. There was no sign of life here.

Sherin carried on around the mountain, along ledges and carved pathways which seemed more worn than the one they had pitched their tents on.

As the sun rose, the queen finally reached a second empty landing, surrounded on two sides by rock faces, as if it had been carved into the side of the mountain. A cave opening gaped in one of the walls: the cave where the people in her dream lived. Trying to recall the path, she ventured along another ledge, creeping quietly past the shed of firewood that Veriana had mentioned yesterday. From there, she saw a stone staircase that led up a concealed gap in the the cliff, and climbed it to the clifftop.

Sherin finally emerged into the plateau above. The sounds of screaming and roaring that had echoed down the stairs were deafening here. Now, as she looked, she saw that four people were chained—one still hung his head, silent, though the other three were bellowing like wild animals, struggling against their chains. With a jolt of terrified awe, she saw that the man who had been chained up in her dream had completely changed. His skin seemed to hang from his bones, sallow and blotchy, perhaps from starvation. Sherin remembered how Myphene had not even opened her mouth to eat in her coma, though the hymnists had been feeding her nectar, straight down her throat. Was this how Myphene would look when she returned?

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered to herself. “She's being taken care of.”

The woman farthest left was dwindling fast. Her head had dropped to her chest, and she choked with shrieks now and then. Then, when she had gone silent for a minute, a black cloud began to pour out through her lips, gathering in a formless mass above her head. Sherin stood frozen. The air was suddenly colder than the deepest winter night, and the wind whipped about. Sherin’s warm breaths came as clouds of vapour, and she could not stop shivering.

The Hollow was drawn to Sherin’s warmth. It turned and flew towards her, changing form again. Sherin began to scream, but that only encouraged it, and it darted towards her open lips.

At the first touch of that burning cold against the roof of her mouth, her mind began to shut down, flashing black and white.

No, no! Struggling to move her lips, she shaped the words, “Come for life…come forth…and fill the sea…”

The Hollow froze, halfway through her lips, and began to billow backward. Already, warmth was radiating out of her chest, growing hotter by the second.

“Come forth, sound…”

Suddenly, the tune—after weeks of hiding—clicked together in her head, and as if by instinct, she sang the rest of the line. 

“Come forth and touch the land!”

Then, she could remember no more of the tune. But the power welled out of her like an overtopped dam, and Sherin let the heat burst out through her throat, swallowing the Hollow in burning light.

Sherin staggered back, sweat pouring down her neck, her limbs suddenly weak and her mind fading in and out of consciousness, before her vision went blank, and she tumbled to her knees, her vision going dark.

Chapter 12: Peaks in the Fog

Sherin was jolted from her dreams.

“Your Majesty! What happened? Why were you at the caves?”

Sherin raised her head to see a vaguely person-shaped thing extending an arm towards her. It was true—the Song of Awakening had consumed more energy than she had ever spent before. She reached out foggily to hold the person’s outstretched hand, but she could hardly pull herself to her knees.

“You sure you can walk?” the person asked.

“R—Reole?” Sherin answered weakly through half-blinded vision, struggling to stand on shaking legs. “Wait…I must free the others…”

“What others?” asked Reole’s voice.

“Are they…are they free?”

“There were people here, all of them looking half-dead. I saw them before I arrived, being taken away to the other side of the mountain. Did you cast Hollows out of their bodies?”

“I—I don’t know. I think so.”

Sherin finally dragged herself to her feet as her vision cleared enough to recognise Reole’s face in front of her. Reole held the queen’s arm all the way back to their camp. It seemed everyone was searching high and low for her, as she had guessed might happen—hardly anyone was left in the camp. When Reole declared that she had found Sherin, Stein immediately sent his remaining two knights, Kayon and Leirus, to retrieve the rest of the search party.

“There was no need to send the entire company in search of it,” Sherin muttered. 

“But you are the queen of the kingdom, and your life is infinitely important!”

“I think Her Majesty has a point this time,” Reole retorted. “She has learned how to remove Hollows from possessed bodies! And she did it down there. She saved two people.”

Stein’s bearded face was lit with hope. When the rest of the knights and mages began to return, the news rippled through the ranks, and they looked on in wonder, too.

As soon as all of the party had regathered and been accounted for, they began their preparations to leave once more. Moving as one, they descended the spiralling paths back to the Mountain Pathway, riding in single file as before.

Along their way, they passed a woman collecting mountain herbs from cracks and holes in the ground. Her head shot up at the sound of the grand company of knights and mages, and upon seeing Sherin riding near the head, she froze. “You!” she gasped. “You’re the noble who freed our possessed! Leif told us about you!”

Sherin nodded back. The dizziness had not fully deserted her, and the bobbing of her head made the world spin a little. “It was my duty,” she said.

Bewildered, the woman rose to her feet, sweeping herbs into the sack on her waist. The scent wafted over them, cooler than the mountain air—cloud mint. The herb was used to jolt the memory.

“Oh, thank you!” cried the woman, breaking into a smile. She tied the sack shut and tossed it at the queen, who caught it. “How kind of you, dear Lady, to ride through here and help us. The goddess’ blessing be with you!”

Sherin smiled and bowed as they rode past the woman, stuffing the sack of cloud mint into the bag on her back. But as the icy scent of cloud mint filled her nose, she remembered something. Once they were out of sight of the woman, she turned to Reole. “The herb shop. Did the landslide destroy any part of the Mountain Pathway?”

Reole thought for a moment. “Some parts of it were buried by rocks, I reckon,” she said. “But I do not know if they were enough to prevent passage.”

“Fair enough. Let us chance it, and if we must then we shall go around the mountain.”

The company carried on through the fog, past many grey mountains, but never stopping to rest. The grey path wore on endlessly, weaving between the peaks, and when the first glimpse of the castle’s turrets peeked from the greyness, a small celebratory cheer rippled across the party—nothing too loud to trigger another landslide.

But soon enough, it was sunset again, and though the frustration immediately welled in Sherin’s heart at being forced to spend another evening on the mountainsides, they stopped for the night.

“Worry not, we are near, Your Majesty,” said Stein. “We’ll almost certainly arrive tomorrow.”

Sherin nodded as Stein pitched her tent. I’m almost home, Myphene. Just hold on a little longer.

***

Sleep was quick to come that night. After a few hours of dreamless sleep, the dreams began to come again, these ones tinged with the scent of home.

Sherin heard three voices singing wordlessly before her. They were singing the Song of Awakening in pure, steady harmonies that made her body feel new again, as if she were a sprightly child once more. The song filled the white sky, whistling with the blizzard winds.

At once, she knew whose voices she was hearing.

“Goddesses?” she asked, stumbling forward through the whiteness. “Oh, it is you! Goddesses, please, tell me! Why did you choose me? Of everyone in the world?”

Suddenly feeling ashamed for calling out so boldly to the three deities, Sherin bowed her head and apologised.

“There is no need.”

Fearfully, Sherin looked up to see a beautiful creature, human in appearance, yet different. Her eyes burned like the summer sun, and her hair billowed behind her like a river reflecting the sky. “Sherin, my dear,” Isola went on in a rich, echoing voice. “You are our daughter. Now is the time when that great disaster will befall the world, and now is the time we must choose the hero to save our universe.”

Sherin drew back, helpless tears rising in her eyes. “But how can I do all you want me to do? How about—how about yourselves? Can you three not save us?”

A second goddess emerged from the light. Her skin was red as the desert rocks, and her eyes glowed fiery red. Her head was bald, forest green garlands draped over her shoulders. “Fear not, child,” Aderrion said. “Our strength is all but spent, and we have faded to concept. We can only lend you the knowledge we have ourselves amassed. All of life hangs in the balance now, and you are the one who decides which way it tips.”

Sherin stared on as the triad gathered before her. Here they were, telling her that she was the one who could save all life in the world. But she had never been taught to be anything but a daughter, a wife…

“Your voice pleases us,” said the third goddess—Qualiomar. Her skin and hair were as black as night, speckled with wisps of starlight, her stare the most unnerving of the three, with her hair swirling behind her like a black cloud blown by a great wind. “Even the dead suffer, and that suffering is soon to pass to the living. Daughter, your voice pleases us, and pleases the universe, and that is all you need to have…”

A pang shook Sherin, and more tears spilled from her eyes. “There were three of you long ago,” Sherin said softly. “But I have to do this alone.”

“You are not alone,” Isola replied, her face fading back into the whiteness. “You never have been. Your daughter will be with you.”

All three faded from view then, and Sherin suddenly found herself facing a windblown white infinity on her own, strange sadness welling up inside her.

The queen’s eyes flew open, and she rose from her bedroll, feeling strangely energised.

When she stepped out onto the campground, she found Jasper just outside her tent. “Your Majesty, good morning!” he exclaimed, unexpectedly chipper. “We should arrive today. Look—the castle looks even closer in the daylight.” He pointed at where the silhouette of the castle jutted from the crown of the next mountain.

Sherin broke into a grin and stepped outside, picking up her bag. “Wonderful,” she said, though her heart was taken over by anxiety again at the thought of her daughter, lying in one of the rooms in the towers. Had she started to succumb? Was she still alive?

Now, knowing she had the magic she needed to cast out the Hollow, she felt her resolve hardening. If Myphene had to endure even one second of being controlled by the Hollow, then she would exact revenge threefold upon it.

After a simple breakfast of stale biscuits and bread, the company was once again riding on their way back homeward. From here, she could see where the landslide had erupted from the mountainside, a great concave hollow carved into the mountain, but it seemed that the largest debris had fallen on the span of road running in the opposite direction from their homeward route.

She looked about to speak to Reole about the state of the roads again, but she was busy talking to Jasper. Riding towards her, Sherin found her heart warmed at the sight of her smiling. It was a good change—she was too moody otherwise.

Both heads whipped around as her horse cantered closer. “Oh! Your Majesty, I didn’t see you there,” Reole said.

“We’re making good speed,” Jasper added, glancing up at the sky, where the sun had yet to ascend to the pinnacle. “We’ll be back in the castle soon enough.” Then his eyes met Reole’s. “A pity we won’t have many more chances to talk.”

Reole laughed. “Arriving at the castle doesn’t mean we should stop talking.”

His eyes brightened. “Dare I hope for more of your company?”

“If hoping is all you wish to do,” she replied.

Sherin cleared her throat. “Could I speak to Reole alone?” she asked.

Both heads turned again. “Of course, Your Majesty!” the knight said in a hurry, bowing his head and taking his horse on an outward trajectory.

“Did you need something from me?” Reole asked, watching him go.

Sherin shook her head. “I was wondering if you’d noticed, the path is quite clear,” she said. “The rocks fell mostly on the other side.”

She looked up ahead of them, at where the landslide debris had fallen. “How lucky for us,” she replied. “Not so lucky for the herb shop, it's probably crushed.”

“But I also wished to say that I’m proud of you.”

Reole’s brow furrowed. “What for?”

“At the start of this journey, you refused to so much as talk to the knights. But you seem to have taken quite a liking to that one.”

“It’s not what— No, you’re mistaken!” Reole sputtered.

“What am I mistaken about? I only said you’d taken a liking.”

“He’s the one always offering kindnesses. And I’m not about to refuse them,” she huffed.

Sherin chuckled. “Just three weeks ago, you were perfectly comfortable refusing a knight’s advances.”

Reole clenched her jaw and looked resolutely ahead, gripping her reins tighter, but her face was a telling shade of pink.

Chapter 13: Homeward-Bound

At long last, they rode the final stretch of the Pathway and once again met the road that wound down Granitepoint Mountain. After weeks of trekking, some of the horses looked completely rundown, despite them being bred for endurance and mountain trails. They, too, seemed to sense the approach of home, and began to speed up, their hooves clip-clopping through the thin gravel.

Nearing sunset, the air began to grow colder. They were on the final downward ramp to the castle, passing beneath the site of the landslide, when Stein called them to tread carefully. In the mountainside, there was a gaping crack in the rock, rising from the level of the road, its top more than thrice the height of the tallest knights on horseback.

“This wasn’t there before, was it?” muttered Stein, and Kayon shook his head. Veriana rode up to his side and raised her hand, a ball of light forming in her palm that steadily grew larger.

Then, out of the cave came a chorus of deafening screeches. Sherin did not have to think—the fear had gripped her already. This must be one of the tunnels they had dug to the surface of the mountain! The landslide must have been them carving their way out of the mountain!

At once, a dozen black shapes shot out, silhouettes of eagles against the dull purple sky, and all of them dove straight towards Veriana.

Veriana?

Without a pause, the light mage threw up a shield of light around the group. Hollows slammed against the barrier, making shimmers of light ripple across it.

Suddenly, Sherin understood. It was too clear now. These Hollows were attracted to light magic. Of all the people she knew who had been attacked—Myphene, the man from the mountain, Veriana—all had used light magic before the Hollows had come! Even that one time as they had been departing, Veriana had been showing off her magic just before the creature had attacked.

A thought struck her. What would happen if the problem was not solved before the Festival of Summer? Could something be done before the festival? Or would the light show have to be cancelled?

But Sherin almost had a solution. Even while the panic of her companions whirled around her, she lifted her head and began to sing the Song, bracing herself against the exhaustion to follow. With every syllable, heat glowed through her vision, making the world feel far away. Above her, the creatures began to wheel and jerk, and as her song reached them, they contracted into balls, shrieking, before disintegrating into dust.

Sherin reeled back as she completed the second line, slumping backwards into a pair of arms. When her eyes opened, she saw that everyone else was staring at her. “Your Majesty,” breathed Veriana from overhead. “Where did you learn the melody?”

She shook her head, barely keeping her vision steady. “The goddesses visit me in my dreams,” she said. “I do not know how to explain. But no more light spells must be cast. They’re attracting the Hollows, don’t you see? We must inform the entire castle of it. Please see to that as soon as we return.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Veriana replied, lowering the shield. The group resumed their ride towards the castle, Sherin’s vision still flashing. Now and then, when she began swaying, Veriana rode beside her and reached out to grasp her shoulder. “Magic exhaustion is no laughing matter,” she said.

On her other side, she heard another pair of hooves wander up, a hand grasping her elbow. Then a pulse of coolness rippled through her from the touch of those thin fingers, and she turned to see Emerald casting a spell of renewal. “Thank you,” Sherin managed, vision steadying again.

They crossed the uneven rocky terrain of Granitepoint Mountain, passing the mountain stream they had departed from three weeks ago. Perhaps someone had heard the horse hooves clopping up the road, for a light flickered to life in the watchtower by the drawbridge, and a voice declared, “Who goes there?”

“The queen returns!” Stein shouted from the head of the riding company.

“Ah, Sir Stein! Three short?”

“Three perished,” Stein replied.

“Our deepest condolences.” Then, the drawbridge began to descend. Sherin rode in with her twelve companions, reentering the safety of ancient stone walls.

But if the Chaos finds a way through that hole, then we are all dead, protected by stone or not.

But for now, Sherin could only feel the relief of being off the road. Her feet strained to visit her daughter, but she was famished after days in the barren mountains, and so were her company, no doubt. “A feast!” she declared as they entered the hall. “Call the cooks, we shall have a proper meal tonight.”

***

The feast commenced near sunset, well after the rest of the castle had dined. Sherin sat with Arefiel at the head of the banquet table, hand over hand. “It is such a relief to have you safe again,” murmured her husband, smiling into her eyes. 

“Likewise, my love,” she replied, squeezing his hand. Even a decade later, she found herself revelling in his gaze. Then her face hardened. “Is Myphene still… Has the Hollow taken over?”

“She’s in the same state as when you left,” he replied, and Sherin’s heart unclenched. “But she is growing thin, despite the healers’ efforts.”

Sherin longed to race to the girl's side, but she resolved that she would allow herself some nourishment after the journey—she would need it, if she was to help her daughter.

“Good evening all,” she began the speech once all were assembled. “We thank our loyal knights and mages for a successful journey. We thank, especially, the ones who gave their lives to our cause.” Then she listed her companions on the journey one by one, including those who had perished, and the table toasted to each of them, with all the exuberance they had been deprived of till now.

A proper beef roast was served out today, drizzled in berry sauce and gravy, served with potatoes and fresh vegetables. Her five mages sat on either side of her and Arefiel, feasting to their heart’s content. Veriana and Reole were shovelling food into their mouths. Komira and Emerald maintained a veneer of politeness though there was vigour in their motions. Talon was clearly in desperate need of sleep, but he ate and drank with gusto anyway.

Beyond them, the knights were spared of the king and queen’s scrutiny, and many showed no restraint as they downed the food placed before them, their wine goblets always refilled as soon as they were drained.

Almost everyone finished at least two glasses of wine that night, except for Sherin, who left it at one, for she knew she needed her strength for that evening. Before the dining had ended, Veriana was already draping herself over chairs, complimenting Stein’s handsomeness which he, for once, answered with a rosy laugh. Even Glen was being rowdy with Kayon and Micah, laughing uproariously as they recounted the journey. With their commander looking the other way, the misdemeanour began. Goblets spilled; a knight tossed a bone at another's head.

“They’re eager to be home,” laughed Arefiel, who seemed not to have the heart to disrupt their merriment.

“We all are,” Sherin replied. “But the problem is not yet solved.”

Though it pained her, she rose to leave when the celebrating was at its peak. She bade her husband goodbye, and he wished her good luck, kissing the back of her hand.

On her way out, she heard laughter coming from one of the window recesses. She turned and saw Jasper and Reole sitting with their boots up on the windowsill, caught up in a bout of teasing. The mage playfully shoved her companion, and both laughed.

She only noticed their feet were hooked together when they both saw her and scrambled to straighten up, offering polite nods. “Good evening, Your Majesty!” they both called out.

“I’d say good evening too, but it looks like you’re already having one,” she answered, then walked onward before they could reply.

Chapter 14: The Long Sleep

That had been the finest meal Sherin had eaten in quite a while, but almost at once, she was racing to the sick room where Myphene had last been warded. Her anxiety mounted as she approached, her teeth set on edge.

She threw open the door to find that Myphene lay asleep on the bed, a pair of hymnists still sleepily watching. Upon hearing the door open, however, both turned and rose.

“Your Majesty,” Shandell called out, both bowing. “We heard you had returned. Did you find the answer?”

Sherin closed her eyes to call the song to mind, and nodded. “I believe I have the cure,” she said. “Let my journeying be of worth.”

Myphene had been possessed for three weeks now. She was almost as thin as a skeleton, the nobbles of her bones showing through. A pang rippled through Sherin. Though it was an inexperienced Hollow, it must have its roots deep by now.

Inhaling deeply, Sherin knelt down beside her daughter’s bed and grasped her arm.

Then she began to sing:

“Come forth, life,
Come forth and fill the sea!”

Though she could never recall the melody at will, it came forth now, in her moment of need. With each line, heat swelled inside her belly. Beneath her hands, she felt Myphene’s body react: her arm trembling weakly.

Heart thudding, she raised her voice.

“Come forth, sound,” she sang, and her daughter began to shudder, head to toe. “Come forth and paint the skies!”

Then her voice faltered as the melody deserted her memory again, the last word—skies—coming in a shout.

“Wake up!” she screamed, tears welling in her eyes. And in that cry, all of the building power burst from her lips, swallowing her daughter’s sleeping figure. Suddenly, she could see the Hollow, a mass perched over her daughter’s body, claws sunk between her ribs. She snarled and lashed at it with her hands, and it shrieked as her hands met it, her fingers burning hot and cold. But as she did, a hum of music swelled around her, and the Hollow’s claws were torn out of her flesh, and its body melted away in the torrential onslaught of magic.

Almost at once, a blinding exhaustion descended upon Sherin. Her throat was still burning with her last cry, and sweat ran into her eyes. The last thing she saw was the light fading, the hymnists descending around her, and the mattress rising to collide with her head.

***

Sherin slowly opened her eyes to find herself looking up at the sunlit roof of a sick room. Below her, she felt a soft mattress, and on either side of her, she saw many gathered—Arefiel, Reole, Emerald, Veriana, Shandell and the other hymnist—all looking on at her with concern. Her husband broke into a worried smile as her eyes opened, and he descended to her bedside, helping her crawl into a seated position.

“Did it work?” she asked. Then she realised that she was lying in the very same bed Myphene had been, and that the girl was nowhere in sight. Briefly, her deepest fears gripped her, and she began to hyperventilate, searching all the gathered faces for an answer.

But Shandell broke into a wide smile and said. “Yes, yes, she woke up!” she cried. “She is at breakfast now. Her first breakfast in three weeks.”

“I have ordered the cooks to bring her everything she asks for,” Arefiel replied.

She had been out the whole night. But that was only the second thought in Sherin’s mind. She could have screamed for joy, if so many were not watching. She only crawled from her bed, ignoring the spinning of her head, and shouldered her way past her onlookers to charge out of the room.

Cool morning air greeted her, and Sherin inhaled it deeply. Never before had she been so delighted to smell the morning air. Racing down the stairs, she hurtled straight into the dining room and cried out at the sight of her daughter in a chair, with pancakes and berries in a spread before her.

“Myphene!” Sherin shouted. The girl’s eyes met her mother’s, brightening by the second.

“Mother,” she called out as Sherin descended to her side, throwing both arms around her daughter once she had put down her cutlery. Feeling her daughter move in her arms, tears began to pour down her face. “Oh, Mother, why are you crying?”

Wiping her tears away, she rose back to her feet. “Nothing, dear,” she answered. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she said, then confusion swept over her face. “Though I don’t know why. I thought I just saw you yesterday, but it feels so much longer than that…”

“Oh, thank goodness!” she cried. “You were asleep for a long time, Myphene. Please, eat your fill. You more than deserve it.”

***

In her slumber that night, Sherin saw a bright light creep into her vision.

“Sherin, time runs low,” it said. “The cracks are widening. As soon as your daughter is well again, you must go.”

Through the depths of her sleep, she only just recognised the voice of Isola. She lifted her head, trembling. “But why must she be there?”

“You cannot cast that spell alone,” said Isola. “Not this time.”

And Sherin understood. She had passed out singing only half the song. If she was to complete it, she had to share its weight with someone else. And to share a spell like that, both casters had to know each other, inside and out.

Sherin found Myphene in the hallways the next morning. She was sitting on a bench looking out on the courtyard. “I have a song to teach you,” said the queen, reaching out to squeeze her hand, and the girl nodded. “It goes like this…”

Chapter 15: A Wound in the World

Come forth, life,
Come forth and fill the sea.

“It’s time to go on the most important ride of our lives,” said Sherin at the end of their impromptu lesson. Her daughter could recite the words now, but did not know the tune, for Sherin had feared that singing it would exhaust her there and then.

She began to walk through the halls, towards the gates. Obediently, her daughter followed her out onto the grounds, to the stables, to fetch a horse. The crack in the mountain wasn’t far from here, but it did not hurt to have a quick means of transport there and back. Assuming that she would return.

Feeling strangely calm, she mounted the horse, then helped Myphene up by the hand. Her fingers were still thin and bony, and briefly she feared she might snap them if she gripped too hard. How could she make her daughter do this? But the goddesses had been specific. 

“Myphene, I love you,” she said, throat tightening.

Myphene turned back and sighed. “You always say that.”

“Listen to me—it’s important this time,” she said, and her daughter’s eyes widened. “Because where we’re going…it is not certain that either of us will leave it alive.”

“Where…where are we going?”

For seconds, Sherin could not answer. She was afraid to speak. But Myphene had a right to know, even if the goddesses had forced her hand.

“We’re going to the World of the Dead.”

Her daughter did not reply, only turned back to face the mountain road.

 

Come forth, sound,
Come forth and paint the skies.

The crack rose in their vision, dark as night. At last, both silent, they arrived beside the yawning crack in the granite, dismounting from the horse. Myphene went completely silent when she saw that her mother had not been making up tales this time.

Sherin took Myphene’s hand and glanced at her. “Are you sure you want to come?”

The girl’s face wavered, before steeling up. “If you have to go there…I want to be there, too. You'll keep us safe.” Sherin wondered if that were true.

Together, they stepped through the crack. The light lifted from her skin. They advanced inward till they reached a ledge, then doubled back an inch from that endless drop. Here, she could make out a light flooding through what looked like a wound in the world itself: a red light broken now and then by a flutter of wings. Through the crack, they saw a dark volcanic peak, taller than even Granitepoint, rising up into blood red clouds, its tip belching smoke and glowing red lava.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, gripping Myphene’s hand tighter, and they leapt into the dark land.

 

Come forth, joy,
Come forth and wake the land.

Almost at once, the scorching heat swallowed the two, the air scalding as they plummeted, before the air began to thicken, and their fall slowed to a crawl. They tried to push forward, gasping in the heat. Sweat was already running down her face, drenching her hair and clothes.

Their feet touched hard ground, her bones hardly jarring. Everything felt too light yet too sickeningly hot. It was like swimming through lava. What were they to do now?

“Come out, Chaos!” she cried, lifting her head. “Come and face us!”

Then there was a crack from afar, and a boom that rattled her bones. The volcano had burst open, magma spewing out of the broken mountain. And from a spray of brilliant lava, there burst a dark, serpent-like creature, half the size of the volcano itself.

A human? Oh, I have waited! I have waited to be heralded into your world!

it roared, its voice rattling the entire ground. All across the realm, near and far, the Hollows raised their necks in a concerted shriek, as if this world were being dragged against the surface of another.

You are my sign. My sign that my time is nigh!

Sherin watched in terror and awe as it coiled up into the air and arced through the smoke, before deflecting in midair towards her. She now began to realise that the peak was much farther and much larger than it appeared from afar, for as the serpent soared towards them, it grew to the size of the castle, the size of an island, the size of Granitepoint itself. She stared as those millions of tonnes of darkness flew towards her, and Myphene began to shriek beside her, cowering away.

This was the fourth deity, the one who had brought three goddesses to the brink of destruction. She was but a speck in the Chaos’ eyes, those great, slitted, luminescent eyes.

“Oh goddesses, oh goddesses, please help me,” she wept, but the goddesses were not there.

Chaos parted its great yawning jaws, larger than a lake. There and then, Sherin began to realise that she was about to die, useless and spent—and the thought brought a terrifying, icy calm. She simply stood there with her daughter, between the Chaos and that crack in the world, and bided her time.

And in one blink, like the world going out, Chaos swallowed her. She felt as if her very flesh were burning on her bones, and even then, the only thing she could think to do was pull her screaming daughter close and wrap her arms around her while the pain drew tears from her eyes.

But there leaning against her shoulder, Myphene began to speak. And in her tiny voice, she croaked, “Come forth…life…”

The queen inhaled.

“...Come forth, and fill the world.” Sherin and Myphene finished the line together, and the tune came, swelling through her mind like floodwater.

Where her skin touched her daughter’s, heat was starting to flow. She saw the glow ignite from within her, but her daughter’s eyes were glowing too, and for the first time, the magic felt within her grasp. Her entire mind surged and sank on the waves of power, but all she could think to do was sing on.

You tried to take my daughter, but I’ll never let you!

“Come forth, sound! Come forth and paint the skies!” She and her daughter sang in concert now, heads lifted, eyes wide and streaming with golden light. The tune had filled her daughter’s mind, too, and she sang it as if she had known it all her life.

But it was a different tune, locking perfectly with her own, and every harmony vibrated through the universe around them.

“Come forth, joy! Come forth and touch the land!”

You’ll never take my land. You’ll never take my world.

Light poured through their skin, hers and her daughter’s. Around them, the darkness was dancing in a frenzied shiver, like harp strings when they were plucked, the universe screaming around them as their song went on unbroken.

Then, Sherin and Myphene clasped each other’s hands and nodded to each other, tears streamed out of their eyes—liquid light, scattering into a bright mist around them. 

And they sang the last line, together, for the first time since the beginning of the world:

“Finish the picture, colour the world end to end!”

Then, it was like their bodies were exploding with light. Her daughter’s small hands were safe in hers, those hands she had first held nine years ago among the midwives, lying in her bed.

All around them, they felt the Chaos give out out, their magic surging like a tidal wave to overwhelm it. They could see the light of that red world again, and they laughed and looked at each other, mother and child.

“Mother,” breathed Myphene, eyes still brimming with gold. “You look so powerful…”

“So do you,” she answered with a smile.

All across this alien land, Hollows scattered to dust. The rocks and mountains were crumbling, leaving behind an eerie silence in their wake.

Sherin’s body grew too weak to move, but her eyes remained open just for seconds longer, long enough for her to watch as the skies slowly faded from red to the cool black of night, spangled with stars. And then, as the afterglow of the spell dwindled, her daughter’s grip weakened in hers, and her own eyes closed.

***

“You have done well, my children.”

Sherin was floating in a bright blue sky, the wind buffeting her from everywhere. Before her, she saw the goddess of death, Qualiomar, floating, with her face as dark as night. She was holding both her hand and Myphene’s.

Myphene looked peacefully asleep, but the presence of the goddess made Sherin wonder, with an ache in her heart, if their time had come at last. Maybe casting the spell that had begun the world had been too much for both their bodies, after all. But it wasn’t fair for Myphene, only nine years old…

Then, she saw that Qualiomar had let go of their hands and was drifting backward. “You are needed in your world,” she said. “I shall not have you, not yet.” And a single tear of blood descended from her eye to the world below.

Then, this realm of nothingness flashed away, and Sherin fell to senselessness once more.

***

“Mother!”

The first thing Sherin saw when she woke was Myphene shaking her awake outside the crack in the mountain.

Sherin had not thought that she would ever be so happy to feel the frigid stone against her face. Laughing, she rose to her knees and took her daughter’s hands in her own, starting to shake with sobs before she could get a word out.

Kneeling there on the granite with her daughter in her arms, she looked up and saw that the sky was awash with otherworldly lights. Curtains of rainbow lights rippled across the sky like banners.

Just to be sure, Sherin crept back into the mountain crack as far as she could, but where it had ended in a ledge before, it was now but an ordinary cave, no red glow of light from beyond.

She gave a cry, falling to her knees. “It’s over,” she sobbed, alone in the dark, and never before so relieved. “It’s all—it’s all over.”

Chapter 16: The Last Rays

The minute Sherin and Myphene rode through the keep gate, the queen saw Reole racing down from the castle towards her on foot.

“Your Majesty!” she shouted as she dashed, waving her arms and almost tripping a few times. “Oh, Your Majesty, I came as soon as I saw you riding home! Did you do it? You must have!”

“I—” Sherin faltered. “I think we did. I think we destroyed the Chaos.”

Reole let out a cry of joy, offering at once to take the horses to the stables, though Sherin insisted on walking with her, all the way there and then back to the entrance hall. But not two steps inside, more people were flooding through the hallways to meet her, crying out her name: knights and mages, servants and hymnists and scholars, all begging to know if she was well.

“The world is well. All is well,” she answered, though the words didn’t feel real on her tongue. “There will be no more Hollows!”

“And just in time for the Festival of Summer, too!” exclaimed one servant, and it was only then that she remembered that the Festival was in two days’ time. With the Hollows gone, the annual displays could carry on. She would have to deliver the official decree to Veriana, before she gave up the festivities as a lost cause.

But first, she decided, she would go with Myphene to their bedchambers and have the best sleep she had ever had.

***

The morning of the Festival of Summer dawned, and Sherin was awake almost at the crack of dawn. On this longest day of the year, the sun would not set until well into the evening—the perfect conditions, of course, for the merriment to proceed well past midnight.

“Happy Solaifen, Your Majesty,” one of the pages serving breakfast greeted her—a boy in his final years of training.

“Happy Solaifen to you too,” Sherin replied warmly, and the boy nearly dropped his food in surprise.

After she had eaten, she went straight to find her daughter. Myphene was in the garden where she liked to be, gazing up at the sky from atop a rock. Sherin called out her name and raced towards her. She turned and smiled as her mother sat down beside her.

“Mother,” she said. “I was trying to remember something. There was a song I liked, but you haven’t sung it in a while. I can’t remember what it was called, but it was about a bird…”

“The Songbird’s Melody?” Sherin asked. Myphene beamed and nodded eagerly. “Ah, I’d be happy to, my dear.” She took a deep breath and began to sing the first verse of the song, which she too had loved as a girl.

“Early morning in the village,
Townsfolk turn without a word
Oe’r them all, a song rings out,
The joy-song of the blue songbird.”

Myphene closed her eyes, swaying along with its square beat. Then Sherin lifted her voice as she entered the chorus:

“Sing out, songbird, sing out sweeter,
Free of beat and free of meter
Nothing just as fair can be
As the songbird’s melody.”

Sitting together, they watched the summer clouds drift past, and the first butterflies lift into the morning, and all was at peace around them and in their hearts.

***

As soon as the castle was awake, Veriana was all over the festivities, as she always was. The bards and hymnists flurried back and forth on the balconies overlooking the courtyard, tuning their instruments and performing vocal exercises. The cooks and artisans began to erect their stalls, and that brought the rest of the castle—chattering, drinking, and dancing to the tunes.

Sherin was wandering the closest stalls to her seat of honour when she felt a tap on her arm and turned. There stood Reole, and to her amazement, she had dressed herself for the day. She had her hair not in her usual ponytail but in a bun wrapped by a braid, a wisp of hair falling on either side of her face. She wore a dress—which she almost never did, unless there was a dignitary they were trying to impress—deep red like a rose and reaching her ankles.

“How…how do I look?” she asked haltingly. “I’ve never been good with dresses.”

“I’m astonished,” the queen exclaimed.

“By how poor it looks?”

“No, astonished you don’t flaunt yourself like this more often,” she replied, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You look properly breathtaking.”

She half expected Reole to retort, but the mage only said, “You think so?”

“Oh, yes. Don't you waste your Solaifen now, young woman. Go knock someone off their feet.” And she left at once, eyes searching the crowd.

Unlike those with a Summer Festival routine, there wasn't much in particular Sherin usually did other than tail her daughter around. Today, the girl had decided to cling to Arefiel instead, and he was now busy showing her the flower displays.

So Sherin did as she normally did and wove through the crowds, people-watching.

It was good to see her journeying companions, her knights and mages, at ease in the warm comforts of the garden. All except for Veriana, of course. She was in every place at once; Sherin ran into the mage over and over, shepherding performers and checking that the stands were stocked.

“Have you had a moment to breathe?” Sherin asked as the mage darted past carrying armfuls of pennants on strings.

Veriana laughed. “It’s the one night I get to run the show, let me have this!” she called back, and then she was over at another stall, helping them fix a tilting sign.

Not all the knights placed quite as much weight on this day as the mages, or even the healers, who were stationed in rooms encircling the courtyard in case any help should be needed. But the knights she did recognise had changed for the day—dressed in dyed doublets and tunics, some with embroidery

Stein was out and about in a cuirass over a brocaded jacket, having a beer from the taps with his newfound friend, Talon. The pair broke off from a hearty laugh to salute her. “Good day to you, Your Majesty!” they called, without bowing for once.

Emerald was playing with the rabbits in the petting pen, the only one who could pick one up without it trying to leap away. Sons and daughters of the castle had gathered to play with her. And the Sisters were singing with the bards, their melodies striking like echoes of the start of the world.

In the midst of all that music and merriment, Reole had found Jasper on a bench by a trellis. The knight was out of his armour, though he still wore blue, his dark hair combed for once. On their laps, they clasped each other's hands, and neither seemed to notice anything in the garden for each other’s eyes.

Even as Sherin watched, they laughed and leaned closer, pleased simply to be there, and she couldn't help a smile of her own.

“Now, that surprises me,” murmured Arefiel over her shoulder. “Whatever happened during your journey?”

Sherin turned as her husband took her hand. “A lot of talking,” she replied. “And a little saving of lives.” With a small laugh, he led her out in front of the lutes and singers, and they began to dance.

 

Not long after dinnertime, the sun began to sink towards the horizon. By then, the stalls had been put away, and everyone began to gather on the courtyard for the annual light spell display.

Every year on the Festival of Summer, the moment the sun’s shadows slipped above the top of the castle, everyone would cast their spells into the sky. On this evening, the entire gathering waited, breaths held, as the shadows of the crenellations crept steadily up the eastern fortress walls.

There was a buzz today that had not been there even last year, a frenetic exuberance that came from the lifting of a terror from every acre within these stone walls.

When at last the tips of the battlements went from glowing gold to shadowed in blue, everyone who could cast a spell lifted their hands and gathered magic in their hands. Today was the first time Myphene would join them. Sherin knew she had been practising a long time for this very moment.

The moment the sun set, her daughter leapt up beside her and lifted a hand, sparks trailing it, and cast a beam of light that shot into the sky and exploded into a hundred sparks.

For minutes, the sky was a chorus of ribbons, balls, spirals, and rings of light, lifting into the air and floating off to join the stars. She thought of the Song that had created it all: the world and its every sight, every taste, every flash of sound.

“Mother, it’s so pretty,” Myphene laughed, grabbing Sherin’s arm by the wrist.

“And it gets prettier every year,” the Queen replied, smiling with the warmth of tears in her eyes to know that her daughter had lived to see this day.