Overture No. 1
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"...Kin? Can you… hear me? I need your… help!"
Kinjra stirred in her bed, embracing the heavy family quilt as she rolled onto her side. Her mother, Jrana, murmured quietly beside her, unconsciously shivering and chattering her teeth. It didn’t seem she’d heard Dad's suffocated voice.
Probably just my imagination. Kinjra shut her eyes tighter and sunk back into the comfort of darkness. It wasn’t unusual for her to hear Dad whenever her mind drifted into the realm of dreams. She was used to it by now, having accepted her father was dead and gone forever. No one could help him now. Least of all his thirteen-year-old daughter.
“...Kin!” the voice gasped aloud, practically choking on her name. “Please… help!”
Kinjra’s eyes snapped open. Her vision adjusted slowly, revealing a circular room obscured by shadows. The silvery ringlight that bled through the window curtains did little to illuminate their nest. She could barely make out the furniture scattered around the bed in the room’s center, though near the front door, the silhouette of a curvy flowerpot began shaking madly, as if caging a feral animal.
Her blood ran cold. Not my imagination, she realized. It seemed her fae was the source of the voice, but still, two questions remained.
How and why?
Kinjra climbed onto the nest’s floorboards, then looked back to check on her mother. She let out a horrid scream when she found her own unconscious body still under the quilt.
“What the hell is going on?” she exclaimed, backing away from their bed. Miraculously, her mother didn’t awaken, though Kinjra’s clone did mumble along with her voice. “I must be dreaming…”
Kinjra pinched herself, then yelped in pain. For a dream, it felt awfully realistic. Also unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Her other self and her mother looked so real, their olive-toned faces sharp and slight in all the right places. Both of their eyes were hidden by their feathery brown hair, though Kinjra’s was cut in a short bob while her mother’s was long and flowing. If Jrana wasn’t so controlling, she would have shaved it all off to be bald like Dad.
Even a year after leaving them to serve the Fated King, her father’s imprint was still visible among the pillows and cushions. Kinjra blinked, and for a short moment, she could see his body lying there— his head, gone, which explained the dark pool of blood forming around him— before the blood became soil, entombing his body, then disintegrating— leaving nothing more than a horrible memory in his place.
“...Please!” her father cried across the room.
Kinjra spun toward the shaking flowerpot and ran. Normally the constant, monotonous buzz of insects could be heard through cracks in walls, but other than her own footsteps, her nest was utterly silent. It seemed like the world outside had long perished, and that this one room was all that remained.
Fear strangled Kinjra’s heart while she sprinted across a neverending stretch of darkness, seemingly growing longer with the pace of her movements. All the while, her dad’s voice continued muttering weakly. “...Kin!” he beckoned. “Help me… please!”
Tears soaked Kinjra’s vision until she finally gave up and fell to her knees. When she wiped her face, the flowerpot sat before her, trembling and jumping off the floor “...Kin,” her father whispered from within. “...Please.” She didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see what happened to Dad’s head.
Kinjra looked anyway, heart plunging into her stomach—
…And Kinjra’s fae looked back, if a fist-sized ball of soil could technically look. Slightly oblong in shape, he rolled around the bottom of the flowerpot in uneven circles, leaving grains of dirt in his wake.
Kinjra groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What are you doing to me? This is your doing, isn’t it?”
The ball of soil ceased its circling. A feeling of uncertainty surged between them, wrenching Kinjra’s heart back into her chest. She instantly recognized his confusion at the line of questions, as if he didn't how to respond. Unnamed as he was, her fae was too dumb to understand anything remotely complicated. As far as all fae were concerned, a living ball of soil was undoubtedly the worst eternal companion a person could get.
Kinjra’s fae hadn’t always been so dumb and useless. Before she learned of her father’s death, he’d been a bright green seed that sparkled with verdant light and vital energy, able to use magic to heal plants and accelerate their growth. Back then, her fae could even fly, but after that night, he’d slowly rotted into his current state. Kinjra couldn’t help but resent him a little, though she had come to forgive him. It wasn’t his fault their world was slowly becoming a mass cemetery.
The worst began with Hovud, she thought, recalling the self-proclaimed King of the Carrion who’d led a rampage across Vaska Toma. His fae, Decay, had left a festering scar on the world, and it was spreading; both literally and in the hearts of humanity. He’d left a scar on the Fated King too, and it had played a part in his death one season later. Dad had fought to protect humanity’s chosen hero, and both were killed for their efforts. Just as the Carrion King had promised before his execution, their world was doomed.
Sighing, Kinjra bent down to scoop up her fae, then gently cradled him in her palms. Her mother insisted that he never leave the flowerpot, though she always felt off when they were separated. Kinjra would simply pocket him when Jrana wasn’t looking, then wash her own clothes after school to keep that secret. Her mother didn’t suspect a thing, and Kinjra got to go about her days feeling whole. She even felt better holding him in this dream. Kinjra could feel her fae’s mood lighten too.
“Were you having a nightmare?” she asked, wondering if he’d pulled her here to wake him from a bad dream. “Is that what this is?”
Now that he was in Kinjra’s sight, her fae didn't evoke Dad's voice. She was a second away from shaking him and yelling when he began to rumble in her hands, letting out a long, drawn-out groan.
“That’s good enough. Groan once for no, and twice for yes. Is this dream yours or not?”
The nest quaked and floorboards creaked with his response. Not one groan, not two, but four. Her fae rolled around her palms in a deliberate pattern, tracing a word on her skin with dirt. The script was awkward and wobbly, but when she squinted, Kinjra realized it read ‘ours.’
“Our dream,” she repeated tersely. “Or our nightmare,” she corrected darkly.
Shadows darted around Kinjra in a flurry of motion, accompanied by a pair of grinding cacophonies. When the darkness settled, a thin beam of ringlight cut past her face from a yawning window, unveiling the contents of her nest’s attic: stacked chests filled with Dad’s belongings, labeled with things like instruments and songbooks that her mother was too eager to lock away, alongside a sheet-covered vanity mirror. Jrana had hid that too once Kinjra mentioned a radiant woman appearing in its reflection. After losing her father, brother, and husband to the War, Jrana wanted nothing more to do with the Seers, their fae, or Fate. She would not let them take her daughter too.
Despite all the windows being closed, a light draft stirred around the attic, making Kinjra’s sage green night tunic billow around her. Her fringe lifted from her eyes as the sheet fell off the mirror. The person she saw looking back at her…
It can’t be, she thought.
A boy stood in the mirror, mimicking her stance. He was the same height with the same posture, and he even had Kinjra’s sharp face, though his cheeks and jawline seemed more like the edges of knives than slight hills. His right eye, like hers, was a soft yellow, like rays of sunlight. But his left eye… it was a pure and sullen gray. The skin around it was scarred and lifeless. Reminiscent of a dark ball of flame etched into his flesh, with small tendrils of the infernal wound cutting across his brow. Even when sharing Kinjra’s meager size and lithe frame, the boy looked powerful, his muscles showing rigidly through a fairly loose uniform — all-black with gold and silver accents, matching the length of black hair combed down his back mixed with threads of lustrous silver and vibrant gold.
Kinjra stepped closer, and the reflection shifted. For a brief second, the boy had become that frail woman of radiant light, only to vanish and reveal the girl as she was — eyes startled wide and mouth hanging open, with plumes of hair sticking up on the back of her head. She was flat, thin, and wiry; more like her mother than Dad. Her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, causing Kinjra to take a quick step back. When the radiant woman didn’t reappear, she frowned. The boy didn’t return either, leaving her only faced with herself.
Kinjra’s hand vibrated with her fae’s deep, low groan. Like the majority of the fae she’d seen, the dirtball didn’t have a reflection. She’d completely forgotten he was with her, and she could tell he resented it. Kinjra had a tendency to do that, but it was hard to not ignore the fae once she realized what his drastic change had represented. Sometimes, forgetting about him was the only way she could pretend that Dad wasn’t dead. Sometimes, it was her only option to remain sane.
You’re only like this because of me anyway, she thought, petting the dirtball awkwardy, her fingers blackening with the effort. I’m the one who changed. You’re just a representation of me.
If Kinjra resented her fae, it was only because she resented herself. She had gained the Sight over a year ago. Several weeks before the night a Fate defying meteor crashed down near their flock, in fact. Dad had recently gained his Sight too and despite Mom’s protests to keep it a secret, he’d used his fae’s musical magic to keep the flock safe from a diabolical wraith. When the Seers from the local Eyrie came to the rescue, Dad had no choice but to give himself up and join them. Fate had beckoned his name, and he’d answered. Meanwhile, Kinjra stayed behind to watch Kon walk away for the very last time.
She could have gone with him, but didn’t. If she had, then maybe he’d still be alive.
Instead, she consoled her grief-ridden mother until the sunrise. Countless more sleepless nights and weary mornings came after. Especially when the news of his death was carried by a Seer and his giant fae owl.
It wasn’t her fae’s fault that the world was slowly becoming a mass cemetery.
In the depths of Kinjra’s heart, she knew the blame was hers.
“…No!” a booming voice resounded in the palm of her hand, loud enough to make the attic quake around her. It splintered wood and scattered the many stacked chests across the floor. Even after the last echo of denial faded, Kinjra’s dream continued to shake uncontrollably. It crescendoed until she could barely stand on her feet.
Having no better idea, Kinjra froze and shut her eyes tightly, as if she could use sheer force of will to make her turbulent surroundings vanish from existence…
—And at once, everything went quiet and still. She couldn’t hear or feel anything. Not even the sound or movement of her once haphazard breaths. For a moment, she wondered if she had just died in her dream, crushed underneath the collapsing ceiling. There were certainly worse ways to go.
Then, a familiar cacophony of sounds erupted around her. Sounds of birds singing weary nocturnes, and of fireflies crackling like burning sticks. Kinjra even recognized the hundreds of tiny voices chittering in the background: an entire clan of furry, fat-bellied ritili. By the lull in their unintelligible conversation, she knew the exact moment the critters would be hushed by their collective awe.
“Go on, Kin,” came a warm, familiar, tenor voice, barren of any sadness or pain, only filled with pure joy. “I know you can do it.”
Kinjra opened her eyes, seeing little more than a blurry canvas of dark colors interspersed with specks and swirls of bright hues. When she wiped away her tears, she found herself standing in a year-old memory of the ritili’s grove. Her last good memory with her father.
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Kinjra spun quickly to find him, which made the world blur again. When her vision cleared, she found herself facing the same direction as before. She could see the small pond with the strange fallen tree forming a bridge across it, and the bright pink magic bush that only people with the Sight could perceive. She could even hear Dad breathing somewhere in the field of grass behind her.
Dad and his little girl.
“It’s not about me,” said the younger Kinjra. Her voice was still innocent and hopeful. She didn’t know how in a couple hours, her tone would begin to sour with her father’s absence. The real Kinjra bore that curse alone. “He isn’t sure he can do it,” the small girl continued, referring to her fae. “He’s only ever healed dying plants and made healthy plants bigger. Bringing a seed to life, though? It feels… I don’t know. Different.”
While her dreamself talked, Kinjra tried something different herself. Inch by inch, she turned carefully, taking note of each leaf on the surrounding trees and the tiny rodents hanging from the branches, the older males wearing makeshift shields tucked into their stomach pouches, the older females adorned in curling whiskers shaped into intricate spiraling patterns.
Eventually, her gaze reached far enough to finally glimpse her father.
Dad sat cross-legged on the ground in front of a smaller Kinjra, a large bag of seeds between them, both surrounded by a veritable swarm of the ritili’s most curious and courageous children. Dad had a round face that, at certain angles, looked like a perfect circle thanks to his bald scalp. Ridiculous as that made him seem, his eyes were as warm and bright as the Sun Himself, and when he smiled, he could light up an entire room like a sunrise. Dad was patient, kind, and thoughtful in everything he did, and his love for music and people was vast and infectious, like an infuriatingly catchy song that consumed her thoughts. It had been too long since she’d last heard him speak, and hearing it now was like a salve to her soul. Even so, Kinjra sobbed like she was in terrible pain.
“I think you two might be surprised how much you can accomplish. Earlier, I told you what my fae can do with stringed instruments. With wind instruments, her magic is completely different. The fae are versatile as much as they are powerful. Just ask him to try. Ask him to believe and I promise, you two will succeed.”
Young Kinjra blinked skeptically at her father before pushing the seed into the ground. Present Kinjra clenched her fists, unintentionally squishing her fae in her palm. Black soil poured from her hand as she tried to peek inside.
Just like that, he was gone. Dead like her father.
A bright verdant light shone across the grove, drawing Kinjra’s misty gaze. In the span of a few seconds, a large flower of emerald luminescence sprouted between the imaginary father and daughter. Many finger-sized petals unfolded in spirals, releasing a glowing oblong seed from its grasp. When the bright green light faded, a huge sunflower remained in its place.
That was when the ritili collectively hushed in awe. Young Kinjra’s mouth gaped open, along with the furry children that were gathered around them. The pride on Dad’s face as he grinned brought tears to both of his daughters’ eyes. His own fae, a glittering orb of knotted lute strings of equal silver and gold, was floating over his shoulder, trilling brightly with glee.
“That wasn’t so hard now,” Dad said with a chuckle, “was it?”
“I can’t believe it. If my fae did this to every seed in this bag, we could fill the entire grove with sunflowers. The ritili would never run out of food!”
Fatherless Kinjra could no longer see her memory. The grove swam with her watery vision. She knew she was supposed to feel happy to relive the last night she had spent with Dad, but over the last year, she’d replayed this conversation again and again in her head. Every single time she did, she only experienced profound heartbreak.
I don’t want to be here, she thought, reaching out to her fae and pleading with her soul. I want you to get me out!
“I’m not sure your fae will be up to filling this entire grove,” Dad began, humming and stroking his chin in thought, “but I thought if I help you plant the seeds, your fae could blossom some, and the rest could grow up naturally. The next time the Pale Hawks pass by these woods, I’ll bring us out here to check up on them.”
“Don’t say it,” Kinjra muttered, shutting her eyes to will the grove away like her attic. “Please don’t say it!”
“...You promise?” her younger self asked. Despite her efforts, the music of the forest only seemed to grow louder in the real Kinjra’s ears.
“Please!” Kinjra pleaded, stomping her foot into the earth for her father’s attention. “Don’t!”
Dad didn’t even skip a beat.
“I promise. About a year from now, you and I will come here. We’ll see how far we’ve come, and figure out what we do next. You’ll nearly be fourteen then. Not so far from being your own adult.”
Somehow, mentioning her age had been the last straw. Kinjra bellowed a low, primal wail until it was the only thing she could hear. She yelled, and she cried, and she screamed at the top of her lungs into the abyss behind her eyelids; hoping, praying, begging that when she finished her tantrum, her dream would have finally gone quiet. No more bittersweet memories. No more false promises. No more blatant lies.
Though none of this was real, Kinjra eventually got tired. She opened her eyes and found that very little had changed. Time had continued moving, as evidenced by the many large sunflowers grown around the wide grove, and the fact Dad and his daughter had scattered to plant more seeds. “Why are you showing me this!?” she choked out, her throat hoarse and voice ragged. Her eyes felt dry and swollen after crying every ounce of water out. Like before, no one answered. Her Dad and her fae were gone. Kinjra was utterly alone.
“...No!”
Kinjra’s breath stuttered as she turned slowly, already having learned that lesson in dream logic from before. She found her younger self looking back at her over the bright pink fae bush, dressed in a collared white shirt marred with grass stains and a large pair of brown shorts that fell to her calves. Pre-growth spurt, she was a tiny, chubby little creature, more like a smaller version of Dad with short brown hair. Post-growth spurt, Kinjra seemed like a frail tower in comparison, just waiting for someone or something to come knock her down.
Beneath her younger self’s gaze, the real Kinjra fell to her knees.
“You’re hurt,” the memory said. Talking to the magic bush, not her. Kinjra had completely forgotten this part of that night. “I can sense that you’re in great pain. That you lost someone close to your soul, and you can’t get them back. That they’re gone forever.” Even knowing she’d once said this herself, it felt like the words were tailored for her specifically. The memory continued on as sobs racked her chest. “I don’t know how I can feel your pain, but I can, which means it’s my responsibility to help you feel better. That’s what my Dad always taught me, and he’s never led me astray. Do you accept, Miss Love Plant?” At least that last part didn’t apply so thoroughly and sharply, threatening to rip Kinjra’s heart to shreds.
The fae bush stirred, releasing clouds of shining pink pollen into the air. On that night, it had smelt of nature and sweat. Dad had told her it seemed to have the magic to evoke the scents of things people loved and cherished deeply. The theory held true even in her dream, filling her nostrils with her father’s instrument oils and her mother’s favorite moonberry cologne that Dad often wore for her sake.
Kinjra looked around the grove for Dad now, finding him playing with and feeding the ritili children seeds directly from Uncle Gul’s bag. His smile couldn’t have stretched any larger, and his usually tense shoulders were more relaxed than his daughter had witnessed in years. This was his last good memory with me too, she remarked coldly.
“Okay,” the younger Kinjra huffed, calling her verdant fae to her side. “I’m sorry to say that I can’t do anything about your partner, but my friend here can make you bigger and stronger. They say if your body feels better, your heart and mind will feel better too. Before we try, I should warn you, this is our first night really using magic. Please don’t be mad at us if it doesn’t work perfectly.”
The fae bush undulated again, then bowed politely, waiting for the girl to bestow her blessing. The young Kinjra smiled and waved a hand, prompting her fae to soar around in circles above the living plant, shedding magical sparks that basked them all in a pleasant emerald light. The real Kinjra could even feel a bit of her life restored, driving her to rise steadily onto her feet.
Just as she had promised, ‘Miss Love Plant’ grew bigger and stronger, her stems widening and sprouting dark pink nubs to contrast her bright pink petals. The fae bush nodded gratefully, then released an even greater plume of glowing pollen in their faces, the magical effect more potent than before. Too potent, really, considering how it made both versions of Kinjra cry.
“You’re welcome very much,” the younger girl coughed out nasally. The loser even laughed at the sound of her own voice. “Have a good night, Miss Rose,” she said, waving and starting to patter off. “I’ll see you next time I come to visit!”
Miss Rose, Kinjra thought, remembering how the name seemed to flood into her mind through her nostrils. She blinked at the fae bush as it returned to its usual posture, pulling its stems closer together to mimic its previous size. The younger Kinjra had not seen that happen, which left the real one to believe this had never occurred. She was pretty sure her fae hadn’t remained behind to hover over Miss Rose either.
Yet there he was, simply floating, not making a sound or tracing light in the air. Can you see me? Kinjra thought, and he finally moved. Bobbing up and down for yes, just as the Seer Lafer and her blazing knight Vigor had taught them. But the meteor hasn’t even fallen yet. You haven’t even met them! The fae continued nodding, which meant that he wasn't just a memory. “Why are you doing this to me?” The glowing seed shook from left to right. Then, he traced a word in the air with light. “...Us?” she read uncertainly. Kinjra’s fae didn’t reply.
Instead, a bright pair of musical notes blared out loudly behind her, drawing her gaze to the fae of her dead father. While the rest of the memory continued to play in the background, the glittering orb of lute strings left him to join Kinjra by the fae bush.
“You can see me too?” she asked. Dad’s fae bobbed up and down, confirming that this was no longer a dream, but something… else. Something more divine. Somehow, Kinjra could feel that Dad’s fae was still alive.
Kinjra’s fae vibrated madly, releasing two drawn out groans. Without using words, he asked her to take him in her hands and close her eyes. Though initially reluctant, she plucked the glowing seed from the air, then watched him rot into a ball of soil in her palm. It shouldn’t have surprised her, but a small part of her unconsciously yearned to hold onto the old him. The him from a time when she could still find beauty in the world around her. The him from a time when she could still hold onto her faith in a happy future. A lone tear burst from her left eye and trailed down her cheek, making her brace her eyelids before more could break free.
The dirtball rumbled. A voice echoed within her eardrums, making her body tremble to its very core. “About a year from now, you and I will come here. We’ll see how far we’ve come, and figure out what we do next. You’ll nearly be—”
—Kinjra opened her eyes before the fae could finish Dad’s sentence. She fought to steady herself, breathing deeply to catch her breath. “What are you trying to say? That you want us to come back here?”
Kinjra closed her eyes and received her answer. “Go on, Kin. I know you can do it.”
“Together,” Dad’s fae agreed, the word formed by a fluttering melody laced with hints of Mom’s singing voice.
Kinjra opened her eyes carefully, taking a moment to consider the implications. “...Alright. It won’t be easy to sneak away from home without my mother noticing, and I’ll definitely be grounded when I get back, but I’ll find a way to make it happen. Considering all the deadly predators in the woods, I’ll need to bring some friends, however.”
Neither fae responded, leaving her to assume she had their approval.
Kinjra sighed. “Does that mean I can go back to sleep now?”
Neither fae responded, leaving her to wonder how much longer this weird, terrifying, heartbreaking, magic dream-vision was supposed to go on for.
But when she blinked, Kinjra was back on the ground floor of her nest, standing in front of the unoccupied flowerpot. Why couldn’t the other transitions be that easy? she thought bitterly, looking down at the dirtball that was still cradled in her hands. He was back to his usual silence, which prompted her to sigh again, then bend down to plop the dirtball inside his dirtbed.
Kinjra hesitated before she let go. “I’m sorry for squishing you earlier. Do you have it in your heart to forgive me?”
Two deep rumbles coursed through her, managing to uncover a small grin on her face.
With her fae still in hand, Kinjra strode away from the door and through the ringlight, carrying her soulbound companion back to the family bed, where she slowly lowered herself into her slumbering body. Kinjra was pretty sure moving her fae in the dream wouldn’t move him in reality, but if the quilt got dirty, her mother would just have to deal with it. Kinjra would lie if she had to, say that her fae got out of the flowerpot on his own, then apologize and offer to clean the bed up immediately. If Jrana added it to the long list of reasons why she hated the fae, it didn’t really matter. There was nothing she could do to punish a creature she couldn’t see.
Jrana shivered beside her, teeth chattering louder than when Kinjra’s strange dream had begun. Instead of leaving her mother to suffer with one half of her body uncovered, she wiggled closer into the gap her father left behind and covered Mom with the excess quilt that Kinjra pulled away in her sleep. Dad’s indent felt like a large, daunting chasm around her, but the spot was cozy and warm enough for her mind to finally settle.
After a while, all Kinjra heard was the pair of them breathing. When insects began to chirp and hum through the walls, an instant silence fell over the room, and with it, absolute darkness. It crashed into Kinjra like a great weight, as heavy as the world itself.
“Go on, Kin. I know you can do it.”
Kin’s awareness waned, awash with the warmth of acceptance.