Heartfelt Sounds (33 page)

And I remember a song Naia sang for Chima a long time ago. I can't help but crack a smile as I remember her voice—as I remember Naia's willingness to put her needs aside to help little Chima.

Memories.
They make me tear up.

Now, what did she sing? It was always the same song…the same lullaby.

But there was another…another song she didn't sing too often. I can't remember the beginning—but I remember the ending. That feeling of longing and loneliness it's sad end always brought. I think I can…

I look to the door of my shared room and listen to the sound of silence curling from the parlor outside.

It went something like…

If I met you again,

maybe my sadness would fade,

and the fog would disperse.

Floorboards creak and my voice freezes up. I'm no songstress—I can barely hold a note, let alone belt out a whole song without laughing myself silly. I sing through my nose—I know I do. I could never match Naia's voice, but it's fun to pretend. To make believe.

The creaking stops. It's like someone's hovering near my door, listening. My skin prickles and I wait. I wait until the feeling flies away and I let out a heavy sigh as I lower my shoulders, hanging my head in relief.

Nobody heard me—
good.

I turn towards the bed, laying my body down but propping my torso up with my elbows. I look out towards the moon.

The world's okay now. Everything's back to the way it was—but not completely. Somehow—somehow it's
better.

And I know Naia made it so. I know she's done
something.
I can—I can just
feel
it.

Maybe I could finish the song—if I remember—as a tribute to her.

The hero no one else will ever know about. The hero that is mine alone.

I think I can finish it:

If I met you again,

maybe this sky would brighten up,

and the gathering tide would recede…

Tears. Fuck—I hate them. I'm such a child. Such a—

The door barrels open behind me, and slaps the wall with slight
snap.
I scramble to turn—only to look at the low hanging hood of the wanderer whose been sharing this room with me for about two weeks. I throw myself up to sitting as she quickly closes the door and plants herself there, blocking it with her body.

I've never seen this woman's face—she's always hiding it somehow. She's never even told me her name.

“I heard you from the parlor.” she sharply whispers as she removes herself from the door and approaches her bed. Turning her back towards me, she throws her cloak off only to reveal a heavy gown of lily green silk branded with lightly falling leaves that are cut off by a thick white obi. Voluptuous golden hair curls down her back and hides her arms, but I know she's crossing them. “Do you know the name of that song? Or, rather, from whence it came?”

I shake my head as I watch her. “I only know a few verses…some of the words.”

She turns her head three quarters of the way towards me, shielding her face with curly ringlets. “It is a song of loss, and a song of woe. Once upon a time, a very powerful sorceress lost her child to the Fates and birthed that song into being in place of her missing child. It is a powerful song, and a popular one in Felicity. But, very sad. Where are you from?”

“The Vale.” I tell her. “Born and raised in the Plaza.”

The woman turns her head towards the crimson coverlet upon her bed and lowers it somewhat. Dipping the crown of her head towards the back wall.
“If I met you again, maybe this sky would brighten up, and the gathering tide would recede. Maybe we would be together…
always.” And her breath is cut short when her hands snap towards the red bedding and force her to remain standing as she teeters towards the bed. I hear a single sniffle and think—well, maybe I'm not that bad. If the song brings her to tears as well, maybe I shouldn't beat myself up over wanting to cry my guts out. Maybe.

“Where are you from?” I try, turning towards her on my bed. “You can't be from the Vale. You don't have the…
look
of an Easterner.”

“Who are you mourning for?” she croaks—her voice raw. “Who were you singing that song for?”

I'm taken aback. I look at my bed from a sidelong gaze and cock my head. “A good friend. A friend I'd give my life for.”

“She wouldn't have wanted that.” the woman snaps. “She would have never wanted that.” the woman huffs, pushing herself up before she straightens her spine. “She would have wanted you to move on. She would have wanted you to be happy.”

What she says strikes me as unnerving and I'm silent as I think over her words.

“Do you—,”

But before I can ask the question, the woman turns on her heel and storms from the room with her cloak carelessly thrown over her shoulder. I her her mumble a sharp
goodnight
before she slams the door behind her. Leaving me alone.

She would have wanted you to move on.

She would have wanted you to be happy.

And something inside tells me that she's right. Whoever that woman is—I know she's right.

…

When night fades to day, the bed parallel to mine is bare. The woman left in the night, I guess. Maybe we share the same intentions—moving on. Starting a new life. Maybe she knew Naia, and the anger she showed the night before was just frustration. Frustration at herself for not being able to move past Naia's disappearance.

I shrug my shoulders at it as I clean up my area and pack up my things. It was time, I guess, for everyone touched by her to move on. We'd carry her in our hearts, spreading goodwill and heartfelt sounds where ever we could, but we'd move on. We'd move on, as the world changed around us.

I check out of the Djinn Arms when the sun starts rising it's golden head above the blue horizon. I check out, and vanish into the screeching industrial din that is Selina City.