37

SLEEP SONG

🙜

No matter how he twisted and turned on the cold stone floor, no matter how he tried to think of pleasant things before the dreams consumed him, Ember always awakened with a start and in a sweat after only a few short minutes of rest—haunted by visions of that mangled corpse, the black-ice eye glossy in death—only to slip back into another fitful slumber.

The worst of all his terrors was when the monster returned to life, stumbling after him with the old fishing spear protruding from its sunken chest.

Always bleeding… never dying…

Ember tried to run, but tripped and fell, again and again—sometimes he tripped over the body itself, tangled up in its cold crookedness. This time the dead siren snatched at his legs, gurgling infernal curses.

He had to wake himself—had to break free of this nightmare!

Sweat dripped into his eyes, blinding him—

He pushed forward, stumbling out of the tangle of dead limbs—

And a voice called out to him from the darkness.

A beautiful voice…

“This other-place of yours is troubled tonight.”

He struggled to his feet, confused—the body had disappeared, and a mist clouded the trees before him. As he blinked away the visions of death and carnage, it parted slightly. He caught a glimpse of red hair, and an upturned corner of rosebud lips.

“Go away,” he muttered, turning around.

“‘Go away’?” came the sneering words. “Cast me out yourself… if you can.”

He shuddered, sinking to the ground and holding his head in his hands.

“You’re not really here,” he said numbly, too exhausted from his recent terrors to fear a living ghoul such as she.

Footsteps crunched through the leaves behind him and a bare foot shifted into view. Sil moved until she stood directly before him, and then crouched, her crimson hair wisping his arm. It was damp… and cold.

He glanced up into the sirena’s toothy maw as her lips curled seductively over glistening fangs. Perfection, twisted into something truly terrible—but he noticed that her skin was paler than before, and her mouth had gone blue at the corners.

When he glanced down again, he saw a puddle of melting snow at her feet. He wondered at it for a moment, but before he could make sense of the discrepancy, the sirena spoke.

“I see you better, now,” she crooned, fluttering her frosty lashes. “Better, in the darkness. Yes… Little boy, lost and lonely, with no one to look after him… is that not so?”

He crooked his elbow over his eyes and sat down, breathing deeply. He had more questions for Sil, but she had come to him in such a state that all of those lesser concerns had long since fled his mind. He wanted only to awaken.

Perhaps if he calmed himself, the dream would end.

“What is this other-place in which we always meet?” Sil murmured after a time. “It is much different here, tonight… so many whispering visions. This strange magic of yours—I like it.”

“It’s the power of the oracles,” Ember grumbled again, no longer emboldened by those words. “I’m only dreaming. And I hate it here.”

The forest was murky, as if twilight had fallen in his absence, and the trees looked even colder and blacker than before. It was a dead place. A hushed place.

He scrunched his fingers into his hair, gritting his teeth.

A waiting place…

Waiting for something, though what that something was he could not have said.

“These visions which chase you,” Sil murmured. “The one with the dead eye, whom you slew. Does the hunter weep for his prey?”

His neck prickled.

“Tell me—I confess, I am curious—is there any part of your kind, however small, which glories in his anguish? Which rejoiced in the spilling of his blood?”

Ember looked away, willing her to disappear.

“Admit it, boy. You delight in the dripping death you dealt him in that hour…”

“I had no choice,” he snapped, digging his nails into his palms, slick with sweat. "I—"

I had to keep her safe!

But he bit the words from his tongue.

“You chose what we all choose, in the end: satisfaction. Once you have a taste of death, there is nothing else which sates our appetites. Delicious, isn’t it? The futile struggle, the final gasp… the light of their eyes, slipping into the night, as you feast upon their fear. Now, onto another. Always more. More, and more.”

Ember unclenched his hands and glanced down.

His fingers were wet.

Not with sweat.

Thick black blood pattered on the melted snow as his fingers shook.

Frosted breath stirred his hair, whispering softly in his ear:

“Who might you devour next, I wonder?”

❧

"Gahh!"

Ember sat bolt upright, gasping, and then pressed a hand to his forehead in relief as her hiss faded into the darkness.

His scalp tingled.

Drawn by some instinct, he turned—

And came nose-to-nose with a shadow sitting right beside him, staring down like a spectre in the dark. Scrambling for Fishbiter, Ember scooted backward across the floor, struggling to find his footing—and then froze as a familiar voice murmured, "What troubles you?"

He took an unsteady breath, relaxing his grip on Fishbiter's hilt, and closed his eyes again as it turned into a yawn. Her voice soothed some of his fear, and almost managed to wash the bloody horrors from his mind.

"Nothing," he mumbled, resting the base of his skull on the stone floor. He kept his eyes closed, half-hoping she would speak again.

He did not have long to wait.

"That is a lie. I am telling you true things."

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"So you did," admitted Ember with a grimace.

"Are you in pain, Ember?" Her voice was soft. "Did the shining stone not make you well?"

"No. I'm… well enough."

She shifted closer again. "Then why do you make faces and sounds which are like dying?"

There would, he dimly realized, be no dissuading her.

Embarrassed, he confessed, "Bad dreams."

The silence stretched on so long that at last he opened his eyes to see Ky sitting very near him, staring down with somber eyes. The blurry image blinked, and then said quietly, "Then it is true, men dream?"

"Everyone dreams…" He stared back, letting the strangeness of her question sink in. "You don't."

"Sleep is an abyss. No dancing visions come to me in the wakelessness. I see… darkness." She leaned closer, her floral musk enveloping him with a welcome freshness that drove away the damp and dark—a breath of the forest, a whisper of clear-flowing rivers and woodland glades. "What is it like? To dream?"

He folded his hands beneath his head and sighed deeply. Little wonder that Sil had no concept of his ‘strange magic.’ Stifling another yawn, Ember thought about it for a moment.

"Well… you see and do things as if you were awake… but sometimes they're impossible things, or memories made new. And sometimes you're a different person altogether."

Ky stared at him, a wisp of yearning flitting across her face.

"That is interesting," she said genuinely. "Very interesting."

"Sometimes," he agreed absently.

"Do you ever dream about me?"

He glanced sideways at her, caught off guard. "Maybe… I haven’t known you very long."

He thought this rather an obvious dodge, but wasn't about to mention the dreams which plagued him in the oracles' sanctuary. To his relief, she nodded as if she understood, then sighed wistfully.

"I should like to have a dream sometime."

"Hmm." He closed his eyes. "Would you dream about me?"

"I am not deciding yet."

Ember snorted. "You don't get to choose your dreams."

"No?"

"No. I haven't had a good dream since we came to this place."

Ky paused, reflecting, and then shifted slightly. "This is… very sad. I am not knowing this will happen to you here."

He opened his eyes again, staring stolidly up at the ceiling.

"But you would have brought me anyway," he asserted.

A long minute passed between them, and—oddly—Ember felt more connected to Ky than he ever had before. For there was no secret between them, no hidden intentions. He knew she would have, and she knew how he felt about it. It was the truth, cold and hard, and no amount of siren magic could soften what simply was.

"Yes," she whispered with a gentle shudder. "I would have."

Ember sighed, and said nothing.

After a few moments, Ky shifted, and murmured, "If…"

"If what?" he mumbled, barely moving his lips.

"I would sing to you, Ember, if you wish it," she ventured softly. “I want that you will not fear so much the power of my song; only lift a finger, and it shall silence me swiftly.”

He considered it, and pleasant memories of her humming on the path up the mountain floated through his mind; it was tempting, but to openly invite such manipulation of his senses felt foolish, especially after all that had transpired.

Ember took a breath to speak.

She flinched slightly, as if she expected him to shout.

"Why do you want to sing?" he asked quietly.

"That you may rest tonight.”

That surprised him.

"Hmmh." Yawning again, Ember rolled onto his side and snuggled his face into the crook of his elbow. But he did not forbid her, and she must have taken it as an assent, for her voice lifted as he made himself as comfortable as possible on the cold floor. At first the melody she chose was so strange to him that he thought she was singing in siren tongue.

Soon he realized they were human words—and he wondered if it were a siren song meant to be sung to a mortal, or had simply been translated from the ballads of her own people.

Dawn will crash upon the waves in froth and foamy gold,

But I may sing till break of day while all is dark and cold.

Sleep, my heart, until the sun leaps up to kiss her sky;

For when you wake, I shall be gone, though you shall wonder why.

It was a disquieting tune, and struck him as an ethereal, twisting lament—though it was clear that Ky had not sung it often, for several words were mispronounced.

Dream of cliffs along the bay, of white sands shining bright,

Do not bethink me cruel nor cold to flee by morning's light;

And if you e'er remember me, remember breath and song,

Forsake all else to shadow-black, my face to darkness long.

O, you shall see my footprints there, upon the sandy shore;

Wonder where I wander to and wonder evermore…

Her human words eased his troubled soul, and he wondered if it was a lullaby.

After that simple song was finished she wandered into other tunes, a few in her own tongue, some more cheerful than others. Most he knew he would remember long after that night, and likely ponder their meaning until the end of his days.

A fleeting moment of panic overtook him as the power of her voice pressed upon his senses, muffling his thoughts and slowing the rhythm of his heart—but before he could dwell overmuch upon it, the rest of his worries lifted from him.

Thus, he drifted off to sleep with her voice in his ear, singing of scuttling crabs and shells that sang when you whistled into them, and soft footprints left in summer sands only to be swept away by the rippling waves…

❧

Sonorous humming lured Ember ever deeper into the dusk.

He knew Sil awaited him somewhere, out there... but he couldn't keep his feet from shuffling slowly through the leaves. Gloomy darkness gripped his waking dreams, and as he wandered, the stillness of the stagnant air lifted before a faint breeze. It stirred his hair, carrying with it a sound like a distant voice.

Come, Ember…

He paused, curling his fingers around the low branch of a tree.

The sound reminded him very much of Ky’s voice—of the way which she had called him up from the blackwoods, in the Sister’s Footstool. He couldn’t decide if he were still hearing her lullaby somehow, drifting into his dream from the outside world, or if he were imagining it altogether.

Come and find me, Ember… come and find me…

The mist trailed away as he changed course, and he noted that the trees became sparser as the dusky gloom began to fade. He had not traveled a great distance before the crooning tones of Sil faded altogether, the forest became a clearing, and a bright ray of sunlight sifted down from above.

Daisies bobbed in the summery draft, and the mist swirled away into nothing.

Ember gratefully sank to his knees in the tall grass, and then flopped flat on his back. He had never dreamed a dream that felt so real—the daisies nodding above him, the clear blue sky, the sun warming his skin. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, smiling at nothing.

And everything.

He wasn't sure how he knew she would come if he closed his eyes and kept them closed, but he did. And he was rewarded by a faint rustling in the daisies as she sat beside him, her scent drifting over his head on the breeze: musk and river water and forest flowers. A gentle humming filled the air, blending the songs of nature into one chorus; soft enough that the buzzing bees and flies could still be heard, yet even so the birdsongs and rippling stream could not drown it out.

Ember twitched a finger, asking for her hand, but she never touched him. She, unlike the temptress, seemed little more real than a thought or a wish: he could see her watchful figure, in his periphery, but found it impossible to look at her directly, for she always wavered out of view. A ghostly companion.

Her shadow flitted over his closed eyes now and again as she plucked the daisies, and a shiver of nostalgia swept through him as he understood what she was doing…

Golden memories drifted back; the front stoop, his sister's hair braided and glowing in the morning light, his mother creaking over the wooden boards in the cabin and the smell of fish sizzling with wild herbs, and a pile of forest flowers between them as their youthful fingers flashed, each fashioning a crown of the earth's fragile jewels.

"Sleep, Ember," Ky murmured.

He tried to open his eyes, but the sun was so soft and warm and the daisies so pleasant a pillow that he almost didn't want to.

"Ember," she whispered, her shadow blocking out the sun. "Sleep…"

❧

When his eyes finally opened, the daisy field was gone. A shadowy ceiling arched far above, dripping echoes whispered from a distant hall, and the bluish dusk of the mountain settled over him, chill as an early spring morning.

The only warmth came from the yellow light of the stone which sat on the floor… between himself and Ky Veli.

The sirena lay very close, as still as a corpse, pale and wet and cold. He stared at her ribs for a moment to be sure she was breathing, and then tried to see her face through her hair; a few glossy black strands moved when she exhaled. Her eyes were shut, motionless, lashes long against her cheeks, and her lips were soft and void of all emotion.

He found the sight so unsettling that he closed his eyes again, and did not open them until he heard Ky stirring awake.