The Sundered Sky
THE SUNDERED KING’S VOICE
That night, the Sundered King spoke to her.
Not through a vessel. Not through the Inquisitor. Directly. His voice filled her mind, cold and vast and ancient, like the space between the stars.
“Lyra Vane.”
She sat up in her sleeping roll. The stone in her hand blazed, golden light spilling through her fingers.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be. I have consumed worlds. I have devoured gods. I have unmade realities. You are a gnat. A mayfly. A breath of air that will fade.”
“Then why are you talking to me? Why not just kill me?”
“Because you amuse me. The last Chorister. The mute beggar. The daughter of ashes. You think you can stop me with a song.”
“I know I can.”
“You know nothing. The Song of Ending will kill you. It will consume your voice, your soul, your memory. You will not go to the afterlife. You will not be reborn. You will simply… cease.”
“Then I cease.”
“You are willing to die for people who do not know your name? For a world that would burn you if it knew what you were?”
“I am willing to die so that others can live.”
The Sundered King was silent.
Then: “Your mother said the same thing. Right before she died.”
“I know. I was there.”
“You were there. Yes. I remember. The flames. The screaming. The way her eyes found yours.”
Lyra’s heart pounded.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know what is coming. I want you to be afraid. Fear is the door that opens to despair. And despair is the meal I crave.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You will be.”
The voice faded.
The stone’s light dimmed.
Lyra sat in the darkness, shaking.
But she did not weep.
She was done weeping.
THE CHOICE
Morwen found her at dawn.
“You’ve been sitting here all night.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About the Sundered King?”
“About the Song of Ending. About whether I’m strong enough to sing it.”
Morwen sat beside her. Her old bones creaked.
“No one is strong enough to sing the Song of Ending. That is why it is a sacrifice. You do it not because you are strong, but because you are willing.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Strength is about capability. Willingness is about love. You do not need to be capable of singing the Song of Ending. You only need to love the world enough to try.”
Lyra looked at the old woman.
“Do you love the world?”
“I did. Once. Before the Silence. Before the wars. Before the gods forgot us.”
“And now?”
“Now I love the people in it. The ones who are still fighting. The ones who are still hoping. The ones who are still singing.”
Davin appeared in the doorway.
“They’re coming,” he said. “The shadows. Thousands of them. Maybe tens of thousands. They’re surrounding the Spire.”
Lyra stood.
“How long do we have?”
“A day. Maybe two.”
“Then we need to prepare.”
The waking Choristers gathered in the central chamber.
There were dozens of them now — men and women of all ages, their faces still lined with the confusion of their long sleep. But their voices were strong. Their songs were remembered.
Seraphine stood before them.
“The Sundered King is coming,” she said. “He will try to destroy the Spire. He will try to kill us. He will try to silence our songs forever.”
A murmur ran through the crowd.
“But he will fail. Because we are Choristers. We have sung the songs of creation. We have sung the songs of destruction. We have sung the songs of healing. And we will sing the Song of Ending.”
Lyra stepped forward.
“Not ‘we,'” she said. “Me. I will sing the Song of Ending.”
Seraphine shook her head.
“You cannot do it alone.”
“I can. And I will.”
“She’s right,” Morwen said. “The Song of Ending requires a single voice. But that voice can be supported. We can stand with her. We can lend her our strength.”
The Choristers murmured.
Some looked afraid. Some looked determined. Some looked resigned.
But none of them left.
“We will stand,” one of them said.
“We will sing,” said another.
“We will end this,” said a third.
Lyra looked at Davin.
He nodded.
She looked at Morwen.
The old woman smiled.
She looked at Seraphine.
The dreaming Chorister bowed her head.
“Then we prepare,” Seraphine said. “The shadows will be here soon. And we must be ready.”