SONG of EMBER

EDITED THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER - no need to go back and reread. It was a small detail, but the updated version will not have refreshed unless you're reading this on Royal Road.

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A CROWN OF WEEPING STARS

PART II

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Smaller stone-folk awaited them at the top of the misty steps; chiseled into alcoves here and there, commemorating a great clan of men which had once dwelt among them. Like the giants below, they possessed no song of their own, though faint magical echoes straggled about.

Some of these manifested into frustrating glimpses of movement amidst the stoic silhouettes… a spark of light which blinked in Ky's periphery, only to disappear as soon as she turned her head. Once she noticed a few golden strands, like pale hair, wisping around a stone figure—but when she peered behind it, there was nothing to be sensed or seen; only a familiar and effeminate energy which whispered past her grasping claws before that, too, ebbed into darkness.

Perhaps I should speak of this figment to Ember.

She wondered yet again if they were being followed, and glanced back to her companion.

Ember stared down at the rune-marked parchment as he walked, muttering to himself. Occasionally he put out a hand to brush a drifting cobweb or stone pillar from his path; the cobwebs fluttered and dissappeared, and he angled his steps away from the pillars when he encountered them.

His wanderings reminded Ky of a little wooden boat she had once set loose from its mooring, for nothing more than the amusement of watching it bob about the rocky harbor.

“Ember!”

“Hm.”

She stamped a foot.

He glanced up, scratching his bristly chin.

“Hullo?”

“Are you seeing something?” she demanded.

He took an anxious glance about and turned a full circle. “Seeing what?”

“I do not know…”

“Is it magic?”

“I know not…”

“Where?”

“It is gone now.”

“Then how am I to see it?” he sighed, shaking out the map again.

Ky stared at him, a sense of foolishness encroaching upon her resolve. She disliked that foolish feeling—it dredged up unpleasant flashes of a fanged smile, the overwhelming bitterness of sage and crushed pine, and hair the color of mortal blood.

Likely whatever figment haunted their steps was one of a thousand fraying spells, intricately woven by those long-dead and left to rot in their absence.

But that thought brought little comfort.

Human magic frightened Ky more than the wild things in the forest below the mountain—twisted paths in the wooded hills were less disorienting to her siren senses than the memories which seethed and slumbered beneath these mountain halls.

Best to forget about such things… until there is need to confront them.

So she trotted ahead of Ember, weaving rapidly from one side of the hall to the other so that she might peer up at each stony face before he caught up to her.

Some of them appeared in the likeness of men, but a few were shrouded in leafy hair, their limbs like winding roots and branches. They reminded Ky of the forest spirits from the sleep-songs her sister sang, though she had never been so unlucky as to meet with one herself, for all folk of that kind had withered away many long winters past.

All of them were, even by the standards of her own kin, very beautiful.

But she could not feast upon beauty alone, and her thoughts of late had been overwhelmingly bent upon the pit of her hunger. They drew ever-closer to the kitchens Ember had promised, and even that promise of sustenance was enough to refresh her wits—but disappointment awaited them.

Ember entered first and moved directly in front of her, shoving away broken glass with his leather-clad feet. Ky cautiously followed in his steps. Any good things within reach had long since petrified or crumbled to dust beneath her grasping fingers, and a dull panic curled around her ribs.

Only a few sealed vessels peered down from the highest shelf.

He righted a fallen pair of climbing poles to fetch them.

Several rungs cracked beneath his shoes as he ascended and each time he hesitated, jaw clenching. Ky stood beneath him and hummed for balance, her hands outspread. He shot her a skeptical glance, clinging to the poles with bloodless fingers.

“I will be catching you,” she assured him.

He flushed, but did not look at all convinced.

No matter—it would not be pleasant if he fell, but she would keep him from harm regardless.

He sequestered most of the vessels in his pack, and was still fussing with one of the lids when he reached the bottom.

Ky snatched it.

A thick jar, heavy and cool to the touch but small enough to hold in her palm.

The faintest scent of sweet summer berries wisped from it.

“Enchanted?” he guessed. “We might have to break it—”

Crack.

With a hollow thunk and a pop, the wooden topper twisted off under Ky’s ravenous grasp. She tossed it aside, digging her claws into the gooey berries and retrieving a handful of dark deliciousness as it rolled across the floor.

She stuffed her fingers in her mouth.

Ember’s eyes widened.

Then he handed her another.

“Quick, open this one!”

They gulped in frantic silence until three of the jars had been emptied. Even Ember abandoned all pretense of his usual eating rituals, but when she reached for a fourth jar he wiped his mouth and put out a sticky hand.

“We ought to save what’s left; it might keep us fed until we reach the gate, if we’re careful.” He glanced away, but the words were unyielding as he secured the pack and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll hold onto these… for both of us.”

Ky smacked a drop of juice from her nose and eyed him blearily.

Resentment gnawed her bones.

No.

He was wiser now.

She would take everything from him and devour it all—the sweet summer berries, his charming sincerity, and above all else that living human heart which sang beneath his ribs—if she could.