Chapter 51

  Distant Melody

  By the time I make it back to the human compound, Grettel is gone. I’m not sure how I feel about… all of it.

  I mean, Grettel was senile, her mind a chaotic mess. The first time I saw her, I’m certain that she didn’t have a Bui inside of her. She’d been kind, if a bit vacant. I didn’t take the time to inspect her on the Havenless night. I should have. The way she was acting, the confidence, the certainty… the Bui found her somewhere in that time. What makes no sense is that she helped me. Helped humanity. She slew our foes and watched my back. But for her, I’d be dead from an Otachai’s poison.

  Why? To what end? There are just too many questions.

  The glade is largely empty. I sit across from Evelynn out of habit more than desire, and she seems content with the silent company. The peace this place once offered is gone now. Partly it is memories of the chaos, but more it's the emptiness. There’s no murmured conversation, no influencers frolicking, no elderly bickering. Just the distant sound of a stream and false wind whispering through the willows.

  Fuck, I’m turning poetic. I only do this shit when I’m depressed, and I don’t have time for that. The feeling spreading through my chest will kill me as certainly as an Ekinor sword. I push myself to my feet, though it takes more effort than it should, and turn to go.

  “Leaving already?” Evelynn murmurs behind me. The old woman, always hostile, makes it sound like an accusation. “Always bustling about. It isn’t ladylike. Hope you aren’t chasing after some man.”

  Hah. If only things were half that simple.

  “No, Eve, I’m just off to see how many aliens I just got killed.”

  “Well, be quick about it.” She moves her hands towards the empty space where the cards should be, conspicuously empty. “I need a partner to play with.”

  “I’ll be back later and you can beat up on me then,” I say, smiling when she scoffs.

  The streets of Haven have nearly emptied with the news, and the looks the few people throw each other are exactly what I imagined would happen. Judging by their reactions at the meeting, none of these people have Identification developed enough to learn anything, and now they all feel like the last person alive at a dinner murder mystery. I make my way to the main square, nearly empty now.

  Surviving Competitors: 11,152

  The First (Laranya) - 1,023

  The Second (Ekinor) - 1,764

  The Third (Drelni) - 1,151

  The Fourth (Aethid) - 1,884

  The Fifth (Qellis) - 711

  The Sixth (Urnza) - 989

  The Seventh (Otachai) - 647

  The Eighth (Gorinar) - 1,001

  The Ninth (Bui) - 946

  The Tenth (Klaspe) - 1

  The Eleventh (Cobald) - 939

  The Twelfth (Human) - 96

  The Bui purge coincided with some precipitous drops among other species. Why did the Cobald get hit so hard? If you kill a Bui, does it count for one of the species or both? Ugh. My head hurts trying to figure all this shit out. Several species were remarkably untouched, either more certain in their ability to defend against the Bui or even more clueless than the rest of us on how to identify them. I can’t imagine that applying to the Ekinor; maybe their physiology and undeadedness makes them incompatible hosts.

  “Getting close, now.”

  Kora’s right. A little over a thousand more deaths, and this stage ends. I can hardly imagine what’s coming. I flick open my party interface to see the three glowing green forms of my friends. I won’t lose them, or any more humans. None of mine will be among the last to die.

  Zara enters the square, moving slowly, some of her grace stolen by something that looks like pain. I hurry over to meet her, grinning.

  “Hey! You look rough, girl. What happened?”

  “It is nothing,” she whispers. “I have many thoughts weighing me down.”

  “Anything you want to share?”

  “Not yet. Soon.” A few of her many eyes twitch in random directions, though most of them are focused on me. Paranoid? Nervous? “Are you ready to receive my gift?”

  “Absolutely! Let’s get the boys and head out.”

  “They… can’t be there,” she says slowly. I freeze mid step, frowning at her. “This is more than a gift, Sam. It is a ceremony. A… ritual.”

  “Uh?” At this stage, I might be the foremost human expert on alien mannerisms, but that doesn’t mean I’m actually good at reading them. Still, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. “Zara, what’s wrong? Something’s been off about you.”

  “Your instincts are good, for once. There is something she’s hiding.”

  “I have been offered an achievement,” she says softly. “For my Craft. Its reward is contingent on the intended recipient taking ownership of the Artifact. Complete ownership.”

  Uh, alarm bells. The Seventh is involved, offering rewards? The asshole who’s been trying to kill me since the beginning of all this shit?

  “Complete ownership? What does that mean?”

  “Most unique magical items can be attuned to particular souls,” she says, swaying slightly in place. “Some must be. This is the latter.”

  Okay, whoa. I have to admit that part of me now just needs to know what the hell she’s talking about. I barely remember all of the stuff I’ve given her, but it was all super rare. Whatever she’s made needs to be attuned to me? Kora, uh help?

  “This is not without precedent, but it is truly rare. The slippers you wear are an example of such an item, but in a more common way. They were made for Queen Elia, and she probably attuned them to her soul, but they would have become untethered upon her death. Thus, you are able to don them. There may be something of her essence remaining in them, but not like the Laranya is describing. If she speaks the truth, this is another type of Artifact entirely. An item tied to your soul itself. It will survive only so long as you do. It will exist so long as your soul exists.”

  Does that mean it's powerful?

  “Don’t be blinded by greed.” I wait. And wait. I know she still wants to talk. “But I can’t imagine it is weak, especially with the materials you provided. Still, we must learn what we can before we agree to anything.”

  “Zara, what does the ritual entail?”

  “The actual magic involved is trivial,” she whispers, sand through an hourglass. “But there is an element of trust and faith that you must have to make the binding possible. Your soul will do much of the work, and I will merely guide it.”

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  “Uh. There might be something of a… problem with that,” I say, frowning. “My soul kinda doesn’t like outside influence. Like, my Mentor can’t even help me for real anymore outside of talking.”

  “I see.” Zara’s eyes, all of them, turn to me and lock onto my face. “Do you trust me? Do you believe your soul does?”

  “Yes,” I say immediately, before I can think or doubt.

  “Then we have no problem.” She half turns and spreads three delicate limbs towards the north side of Haven. “Come.”

  Our route winds towards the archway where we encountered the three strange Gorinar idiot-philosophers. The last I’d seen of them, they’d been waging a running battle through the trees with a horde of howling Otachai. Chances are, they’re super dead, but part of me kind of hopes they made it. There’d been something about them that was fundamentally different from the rest of their species. I’d like the chance to talk to them again.

  Right before we walk through the empty exit, some instinct has me turn. Across the empty courtyard with the leaderboards, Threenut stands, stick over his shoulder. He tilts his head curiously when he sees me looking, and I give him a little wave before patting the air in a ‘stay here’ gesture. He frowns, but sits back on his tiny heels, one hand absently rubbing his little belly.

  I stay vigilant the whole walk, watching the trees for signs of ambush, though I’m pretty sure the chance we get attacked is zilch. The other species are all dealing with the Bui bomb, and most of them are way too worried about themselves to worry about other people. There’s one significant exception to that rule, of course, but avoiding Assless the Deathlord seems like avoiding a tornado; you just have to be smart and get lucky.

  Or don’t live in Oklahoma.

  Zara turns from the path ten minutes into our walk, and we plunge into the trees. The dim coolness of the twilight beneath the branches makes me shiver, and Zara’s natural camouflage makes her practically disappear in the jagged shadows. As we press deeper, winding between trees into violet gloom, a feeling rises from somewhere deep in my chest, a feeling familiar and unpleasant. When I first left the path by myself, I felt a sudden certainty that I was being hunted, that something was out in the trees with me, and it was not a friend.

  I feel it now.

  “Zara,” I whisper, and she pauses. “Are you leading me to your people?”

  “No.” She shifts, her carapace clicking. “Why?”

  “I think someone’s here. Not a buddy.”

  “They know better than to interfere with what we go to do.”

  “Uh.”

  She turns and plunges deeper into the forest. I glance back, but the path is already out of sight. I could, probably, find it again, but that would make my words to Zara a lie. I do trust her. With my life. She’s saved it several times. I just have to trust her again.

  Ignoring the feeling that screams in me to run and hide, I press my teeth together and follow. Time feels meaningless in the endless twilight, and the trees pass in blurs of shape edges and gnarled bark. We can’t be walking more than five minutes, maybe fifteen. An hour? Fuck, it all feels the same, looks the same. And the darkness deepens. It gets harder to see, hard enough that I nearly greet a low-slung limb with a forehead boop.

  “Zara? How much farther?”

  “Nearly there,” she says, though I can’t see her, per se. God. How did the Laranya lose fucking anyone? In spite of my broken ass Perception, this is misery and terror from a horror film, trapped in an endless maze of alien trees stalked by intelligent alien spiders.

  “It is no longer Perception, Competitor. It is Soul Sight, now. Perhaps your new ability could assist.”

  Hm. You’re right. Maybe, if I give it a little juice…

  A bit of soul energy trickles into my eyes, and I… see. Ish.

  Zara is a few paces away, moving slowly, her steps graceful and certain. Or, I’m pretty sure that’s the case. The visual world remains stubbornly opaque, the darkness no less impenetrable. But I can see life, almost as a collection of intent. Will made manifest. She is moving, yes, but that isn’t all I can see.

  Like a pot heated past boiling, she is in turmoil.

  Hope and fear and guilt and love and regret and a trembling, trembling something that echoes through her being stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

  I see her, but I’ve got no idea what any of it means. It is too many emotions for one soul to feel, for anyone to feel. And I am merely an observer, a third party trying to know all of a storm by watching its motion on a newscast. She is green and blue and red and yellow and empty and colors beyond my understanding.

  “Zara, are you okay?” I ask softly, truly.

  Parts of her soul still. The colors fade. My voice brings peace.

  “I will be,” she answers with a quiet certainty.

  “Okay.”

  “Now come. It is just ahead.”

  She steps forward through a line in the trees and, like opening a curtain, the world is light again. I squint as my eyes adjust, and remain squinting as I try to understand what the hell I’m looking at. The clearing is big, big enough that I can hardly see the other side. It’s also empty, with little more than a carpet of glittering brown grass reflecting the bright lilac day.

  Aside from the web, I didn’t recognize it at first because the scale threw me off. Silver and shimmering, strands thick as my thigh stretch across the glade at head height, converging from all directions on a spot directly in the center. A breeze drifts in from the west, stirring the jagged leaves into a gentle chorus. When it hits the web, a resonant thrum reverberates through my chest, through my soul, like a single note plucked from a god’s instrument.

  I recognize it. It is a piece of the Weave, a small part of the song the Laranya homeworld was made to sing. It echoes through me, a whisper of the beauty in truth and the love in sacrifice.

  “Zara, holy shit. Did you do this all yourself?”

  “Yes.” She steps forward, lifting a limb to gently caress the nearest strand. “When the protections surrounding Haven came down, I was lucky enough to have abandoned its safety to come out here and weave. While you recovered from your brush with death, I wove, certain you would survive. And now here you are.”

  “Wait, this is all for me?” I ask, trying to wrap my brain around the absurdity. “Why?”

  “I was ready to die,” she says simply, turning and meeting my gaze. “You saved me, in more ways than you could possibly know. You gave me purpose once again, purpose long enough to reach a new path forward. When I stepped from the trees to care for the Cobald, I took the risk recklessly, willingly. If I died, if he even woke up and killed me, I would have been content doing what I was meant to do.” Her eyes turn to the beautiful web thrumming over our heads. “I am made for healing and peace, Sam, not this endless war. When the Drelni appeared around the bend, I knew it was time. I would get to see the Weave once again.”

  “And then I stepped in.”

  “Yes. I followed you because there was no other path I could see. You, and Threenut, and Burl, were children. Children I could care for. Thanks to you, I found that purpose again. I found people to care for again. Thank you.”

  Tears prick the corners of my eyes. The moment is too large, the emotion behind the stoic woman’s words too great. I don’t deserve this.

  “We have a new contender for ‘most foolish thing you’ve ever said.’ You stepped in and saved the life of a hostile sentient, risking yourself and, by proxy, your entire species in the process. And for what gain? Then you welcomed her and trusted her and showed her that loyalty and safety extend beyond family and even species. If anyone deserves anything, it is you deserving this Laranya’s thanks.”

  “Come, Sam. Allow me to honor you for giving me the strength to live again.”

  I let Zara lead me to the center of the glade, the center of the web. Its construction defies comprehension in part; each silken strand is meaningless without the others. Yet added together…

  Identification: Laranya Soul Loom (Legendary Artifact, Construct)

  A Laranya Soul Loom is a recreation of the Weave of the First Mother, imbued with the intent of creation. Wrought from Zaratiumynya’s own silk, this Artifact is the culmination of all of her long years repairing the Weave.

  Imbuement: Capable of knitting soul to soul, this artifact bears a piece of reality’s foundations, allowing for the Crafting of unique, soulbound artifacts.

  There is a space in the center, a circle just large enough for… me. Zara begins to dance, clicking and sliding in an alien rhythm rife with meaning. The web trembles in response, its vibrations humming with an invisible power. The opening falls towards me, or I rise to it, and the web takes me in its embrace.

  I am weightless, thoughtless, an infinitesimal piece of a larger whole. My body is here, but my soul is elsewhere, part of, even for the briefest moment, the Weave.

  I hear the souls of the Laranya yet living on their world, hear their voices lifted in a single note of heartbreaking beauty. It is a song I know, though I’ve only heard its echoes. An urge overwhelms me, and I offer my own voice in song. It is different from theirs, more bold and immediate and sharp.

  The Laranya falter when they hear it, the endless pure note of their song suddenly breaking. I am an intrusion, an aberration, something off after so long perfect… I let my voice go silent. For a long second, there is silence on the homeworld of the First, silence as there’s never been in centuries.

  She steps in.

  Her will is mighty, absolute. Their song resumes immediately, stronger and more resonant than before. Her attention turns to me, and my soul quails before her, feeling for the first time what an insect would, trapped before an inevitable end. She could kill me, suck forth my soul and consume it without effort.

  But she doesn’t. She watches. She… listens.

  Sing.

  I sing. My voice is there with the rest, a tiny vibration among the thrumming song of the Weave. It is only mine, one single voice among millions, yet a truth sears its way into my soul. A truth I know she feels as well.

  My voice is different, yet it does not detract. It adds.

  Together, we make harmony.