ShadowSong [Book 3]

Chapter 24 - To The Edge

Banshee had been Olivia, sitting with Ericka and Ariel at their usual table in the restaurant discussing a new dress that Ericka was designing, when the darkness swallowed her again.

It spat her out at the usual place, straight on the floor of the padded starstone room. This place, real or not, was more constant, more comfortable than any time she spent with Ericka or Ariel or Ella or Jason or anyone else the Serpent conjured from her mind. Every time the darkness brought her back here, she allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

She knew it that relief was dangerous. She knew that giving up any measure of trust only gave the Serpent another edge to slice her open with, but it was all she had to hold onto.

Except recently, she'd had something else: the aurorasong.

It had delivered her from the darkness, created the portal and brought her to float above the City-yet-not. It had calmed her, steadied her, and followed her back to this padded cell. Once she'd noticed it here, she'd realised that it was constantly there, a sleepy Song that would occasionally flare in the moments where she couldn't stop herself from shaking.

She'd thought herself crazy at first. There was no way the auroras could reach where she was. She'd told herself it was another trick. Another trap. Another false hope. But... she could never quite make herself believe it. It'd been the light that had led her from the dark. There was something real, something deeper than sight or sound or touch that the Serpent's hallucinations couldn't reach. It had a song. A soul.

Yet accepting that the aurorasong was real, that was dangerous, too. It meant that this place was real, as the Serpent had once claimed. It meant that other things here were real. It meant that she was still powerless. It meant that the corrupted fragment bound to her wrist was real. It meant that its Song, that broken, shattered Song that was there, ready, always ready to tear away another scrap of her when everything crashed into her. It meant that Cryo...

Banshee squeezed her eyes shut and counted her breaths. One. Two. In. Out. Joy's hilt in her hand, the texture of the padding beneath her. Three. Four. The aurorasong brushing against her fraying edges, smoothing her out, helping her breathe. Five. Six. She was calm. She was together.

And then the aurorasong began its crescendo.

Frantic, jagged notes that she'd never heard before but knew how to read like she'd been born in its Song raced around her, and she rose with their warning. She let the aurorasong lift her straight to her feet, let it sweep through her, clearing her mind of the heavy fog, steadying her, bracing her as she flipped Joy's blade outwards and scanned the room.

Outside the walls of starstone, eyes were appearing. Eyes, so many eyes. Eyes that she knew. Not their names, but them. She recognised each and every one of them as the aurorasong introduced their melodies, riding on heartbeats and breaths. They were above her, standing atop sleek, black steps carved from stone that held the light captive on its edges. The stone wasn't as elegant as starstone. It didn't have the same inner glow, but Banshee couldn't stop herself drawing the similarity.

Among them, one was far louder, far stronger, and far more... familiar than the rest.

Banshee turned to face the Serpent.

His scaled form stood atop several of the black stone steps, the tip of his tail resting four steps below the rest. In the dim lighting--lighting that Banshee realised was entirely focused on her box--the Serpent's details were still far from clear. She couldn't tell if it was simply the light, or if the green and black scales that covered him were actually shifting across his body.

Green and black. Black and green.

The Serpent. Always the Serpent.

Banshee closed her eyes against the thought. No--those colours were not his. Those colours belonged to another in her mind. They were the one thing she hadn't let go of, that she'd refused to yield to the hallucinations.