Abyssal Road Trip

Amdirlain’s PoV - Eastern Edge of Mediterranean Sea - Vehtë

The transition from conduit to Material Plane came with a strange constriction. Amdirlain found herself in a summoning circle too small for her full size, and her True Form had scaled to match it. The impact of her magic rating, and smoothing out the melodies while she’d created the staff showed in the intricate interlocking barrier it produced. Beyond the mirrored layers, Amdirlain could sense rolling hills running along a coastline shaded by the pre-dawn light, the sun peeking above the ridgeline of the highest hill to the east.

As Amdirlain unfurled Resonance to its full extent, the slight increases she’d gained allowed it to include two thousand kilometres. Even with only a third of that reach, the surrounding coast of the Mediterranean Sea would have made identifying the location a simple matter. She pulled back on the details it drew in to focus on the landscape, along with the animals and monsters that were about and examined the forest created by the Lómë in what would have been northern Persia. Throughout examining their surroundings with it, Amdirlain kept Resonance carefully distant from Sarah, aware of the sting her rejection had left.

“We’re almost directly opposite the ruins of Athens,” said Amdirlain. Setting her concealments back in place, she wiped all scents away before the circle’s mithril fractured under her notes and the barrier collapsed. With it gone, the staff’s enchantment tapped into a nearby ley line and drew in Mana to repair the strain introduced by her summoning.

“The Lómë forest isn’t that far east,” noted Sarah. “Early bird elves, with their lack of sleep.”

“I can sense their forest from here. It was easy to spot since I’ve got the melody of the Gate Roher opened,” said Amdirlain. “I’ll move us to a location on the southern edge.”

“Yes, don’t annoy the elves by spearing through their ward’s outer perimeter,” laughed Sarah.

“Since they would have likely created it together, I doubt they'd expect that to happen,” said Amdirlain.

“Yes,” corrected Sarah. “Do you doubt your ability to do so?”

“I can hear gaps, but I'm unsure if I can utilise them,” Amdirlain clarified. “As Bahamut said, I’ve still got to achieve a state where I can advance as a Primordial. I wonder how much of me I’d lose if I just became a Planar native.”

What’s the point in being careful with their names since they could watch me anytime? I’m not Ori; both the good and bad are implicit in that.

“That’s not the attitude I expected,” noted Sarah. “What about the plans you’ve got?”

“Sometimes thinking about the worst case motivates me to push on,” explained Amdirlain. “It was an idle thought.”

“Thinking and talking about it aloud is different,” said Sarah. “Normally, when you get that way, you’ve got a distinct air about you, but you don’t seem down.”

That’s because I’m keeping my scent blocked now, and I’ve got enough Acting to control my expression when I have reason.

“I’m being factual. The Titan said my Soul wouldn’t blend well with a Celestial’s essence, and Bahamut said if I couldn’t become a Primordial my end state would be attuned to a Plane. Does that mean I’d be a native somewhere else? If so, that will probably have the same essence issue as a Celestial. How much of myself, of who I am, will I lose if I can’t even become a static Primordial?”

What Sarah said makes sense, and it was what I said earlier. I needed time to get my head on straight. But I should move on. Why does her rejection hurt like this? Because I’d had a little time and wanted to see? Right now, I feel like an imposter in my own skin, never mind not feeling qualified to handle any of my goals. And what will Nüwa make of that?

“I think you’re worried about nothing, but I’m here to listen,” said Sarah.

“Yeah, so you said,” replied Amdirlain. “Do you plan to visit with anyone, or will you hang around through however long the formalities go for? The dawn’s edge is already passed, so you could hop back to the Outlands if you want, and I won’t get shoved off the planet until I cross the dawn boundary again.”

Sarah maintained her calm, and even though Amdirlain had been curious about what lay beneath it for years, she didn’t feel tempted at that moment.

I’m so shallow, one rebuff and I’m sulking. Fuck, I’m pathetic. She wouldn’t have shut me down later if I’d just let those emotions sweep me away instead of protesting.

Naamah’s request to help kill a few billion demons sounds grand. Killing shit is something I at least understand; I’m still fucked at relationships.

“What are you thinking about, Am?” murmured Sarah.

“Right now, I’m considering how many demons I should kill to level my last Class before the transformation. I’ve been taking the easy way and not pushing other skills I might need,” replied Amdirlain, and she made a casual discharging motion. “Thinking happier thoughts. Will you come along and laugh at the children’s antics?”

Right, because that topic change wasn’t sociopathic.

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with the adults first?”

Amdirlain shrugged. “The adults will want to talk about boring stuff. I’m looking forward to the children’s laughter.”

“Maybe you should have formed a local kids’ band on Qil Tris,” proposed Sarah.

“That wouldn’t have let me evolve my Skill,” rebuffed Amdirlain. “Though we could have put you in a red outfit.”

“When you’ve settled things inside, just let me know what I need to wear,” Sarah replied, lightly squeezing Amdirlain’s shoulder. “Right now. I’ll stick around. Just send me a mental repeat of any distant questions. I’d like to know what questions you answer when speaking to empty air.”

But who are you sticking around for?

“Dealer’s choice,” Amdirlain noted casually. She released her Wood Elf form and assumed the appearance of Orhêthurin with her platinum blond hair, luminescent golden eyes, and bronze-gold skin.

“Why?” asked Sarah.

“This is the face everyone is eager to see,” replied Amdirlain. “I’ll Teleport us when you’re ready.”

Sarah signalled her acceptance, and the pair reappeared on a grassed hillside with local trees in sparse pockets. The forest edge was starkly different; towering trees, some fifty metres or more tall, provided shelter for smaller trees, bushes, and ferns. The song barrier possessed an environmental transition influence, minimising the impact of the unnatural forest within, but there was still some as additional streams carved pathways through the hills. Wind carried seeds for plants foreign to the region, and stunted examples struggled for survival beyond the ward’s support.

Within the forest was an unexpected sparsity of True Song Crystal, the wards maintained by a choir in a central clearing. Even if crystal objects had filled it, Gilorn would have stood out. She sat securely in a house that held Gail’s lingering themes. A small dwelling comprised a large room with a table surrounded by comfortable chairs and a second room hosting Gilorn.

It doesn’t feel like it’s a house she’s living in, it’s more of a place to meet people. Why not have the Lómë host any meetings? I wonder what she’s doing today. Is she still mopping up the last of the gnarls, or something else? Not to worry, it’s the Lómë I’m here to see.

A quick casting from Amdirlain provided Roher with their location. With that, she set to tallying the Lómë adults and came up with four hundred and eighteen thousand, three hundred and ninety-seven.

Gail and Isa had said about four hundred thousand before, but that’s not even half the population of western Sydney. It seems odd to think of them rebuilding from that when Ori’s memories have these grand towers filled with people. No Lómë is as old as the schism when they chose to stop working for the Titan. There are six thousand two hundred and seventy-five children, a population expansion of just under one and a half per cent, except they’re not all Lómë. The split seems to be sixty-forty for them to possess an Anar Soul. I wonder if the parents feel cheated by those odds.

The wait was brief; a pair of female Lómë knights clad in adamantine chainmail appeared, their heads bound up beneath full-faced helms with only a slit across at eye level.

Isa’s been busy at the monastery. I knew they’d left a lot of crystal in the Abyss, but I didn’t realise that included armour and weapons. Should I help recreate at least armour for them? Do they even want it again?

The eldest of the pair met Amdirlain’s gaze, and her topaz eyes clouded briefly with sorrowful regret. Swallowing hard, she stepped forward, touched two fingers to her throat, and bowed to Amdirlain. “Greetings, Lady Amdirlain. When Conductor Roher’s Message came with your words, the news spread, and there was a consensus to bring it forward from the time originally proposed to you. We appreciate you agreeing to meet so readily, and everyone is excited to hear from you in person.”

“I was a bit surprised by the level of interest, and it’s easier to reschedule two people than thousands,” replied Amdirlain. “Since Roher is waiting with the rest of the council, and two knights are greeting me, I take it some formalities are being observed?”

The knight nodded and fought to keep a smile contained. “The older formalities, Lady Amdirlain. I’m Tirriel, and this is our cousin Lembiel.”

Through the central meadows were a few hundred Lómë, but Amdirlain could feel them and every other adult listening into the conversation.

“I might not have the right memories for them,” cautioned Amdirlain.

“We’re uncertain of all of them as well, Lady Amdirlain,” replied Tirriel. “But we’ll all travel where the song leads us and create new standards together.”

Amusement gleamed in Lembiel’s amethyst gaze.

They already know my name, so I’m not precisely hiding anything from them other than being the reincarnation of the Songbird; my song is protected if Roher’s statement is true for all of them. New standards. How about a relaxed kinship?

“Since none of us knows the rules, let us conduct ourselves with mutual civility among family members. My name is Amdirlain, and I’d appreciate it if everyone used that, or Am, rather than any title or honorific. The greatest honour you can do me is that instead of insisting on a title I don’t want,” replied Amdirlain. “Tirriel and Lembiel, I hope this morning’s song finds you well.”

“May its beauty always bring you peace, cousin,” replied Lembiel.

“I’ve always found comfort in watching the dawn,” replied Amdirlain.

“Of course, cousin,” Tirriel said, and she stopped herself from saluting again. “Which route would you like to take to the meeting glade?”

“Since the wards recognise you and those in your charge, let us take the direct route,” proposed Amdirlain. “I’m not inclined to put on a parade and make everyone wait.”

The four of them reappeared on the lip of a bowl-like clearing, while across its slopes, several hundred Lómë were assembled wearing silken garments in a variety of styles and colours, from ladies in figure-hugging garments of shifting hues to both genders in sombre shades of black and earthen tones. Most seemed like Roher, standing in groups of eleven, and Amdirlain assumed that was the size of the councils they were using.

Amdirlain fixed him with a relaxed smile. “May the sun’s song keep you well, Roher. I wasn’t expecting everyone to be excited to hear my proposal.”

“May the night’s music grant you ease, Amdirlain,” Roher replied. “Poetic exchanges are part of family civility, I trust.”

“I like the implications within them,” admitted Amdirlain.

Roher motioned down to his formal half-robes, repeating musical symbols that showed his conductor rank along the seams. “And here I went and got all dressed up.”

“People should feel free to wear what they want,” replied Amdirlain, and she tugged at her dark green sleeve. “I just turned up in this old thing.”

“Might I introduce you to a few key councils that would coordinate matters?”

“I’d love to meet them, but perhaps I should just go over what I’m proposing,” countered Amdirlain. “After hearing all the details, some might not be interested. Afterwards, those still interested will have plenty of time to talk and relax.”

“Would you like the speaker staff?”

“Oh dear, already offering suggestions about formality?” sighed Amdirlain. “Should I hold it while I speak and then pass it back when I am done? Or do I control whose questions I answer while I hold it?”

“I’m certain that if there are questions you don’t want to answer, you won’t,” laughed Roher. “You’d certainly get to pick who should offer you questions.”

“You might as well pass it over,” Amdirlain responded. “Not all of us have Isa’s luck to have things go our way.”

With a snort, Roher handed over a black staff sung of basalt granite.

Is it meant to be heavy to discourage people from being long-winded? It wouldn’t work on any of the knights.

Hefting it to check its weight, Amdirlain spun it fast enough to generate a buzz-saw hum. “Nice heft. I might have to enchant a few like it to cave in Demon skulls, but that’s personal business.”

Amdirlain ground the staff and casually leaned on it. “Aeons ago, your previous incarnations stopped bringing worlds to life. Would you like to go back to work? Currently, I’ve got a lot of dead worlds where evil ended up killing everything down to the microfauna, as well as a sterile world that Gideon has asked me to restore. The work doesn’t pay anything except the pleasure of watching things bloom. The boss is a shiny sphere that likes to give me snark and orders, and I’m a pain to work with. I’m always pushing myself harder, and I exhaust people trying to keep up, but you’re free to work at your own pace when you’ve time. All that aside, it would be appreciated if anyone would like to lend a hand in preparing compositions or lift their voices with me. Thank you all for listening.”

Various council members stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown a second head before they looked at each other.

That might cut the numbers down to those who are serious and won’t be a pain in my arse.

Roher’s gaze brightened the longer the silence dragged. After a minute without so much as a mutter, Amdirlain offered him back the staff, but he motioned for her to retain it. “Do you believe we would make a difference to your work?”

“We can all make a difference,” declared Amdirlain.

An ancient male, alone in a distant home beyond the fringes of a larger community, spoke up. “Would the world songs include the traps?”

Fine, here we go. Does this also go to shit now? Grumpy old dude in a house that doesn’t have even a lingering trace of anyone else’s song. Was he one of those from the tower that didn’t have to endure the Abyss?

Amdirlain snorted and echoed their question to Sarah, carefully ensuring she provided only their words. “Why do you ask?”

The old Lómë straightened on his chair. Though his features were as youthful as the others, bitterness and regret lined them. “We should implement what the Titan wanted. In my recollections, we never asked the reason for the traps.”

They need to see it’s possible to start afresh; none of them were alive at the time of the schism.

“What’s your name, please?” asked Amdirlain. “If I were Orhêthurin, I’m sure I’d know it, but like all of you, I’m a reincarnation of those alive when the split happened.”

“I’m called Barhador, Amdirlain,” Barhador replied. “You asked for aid in preparing compositions. We should seek the original songs that fulfil the Titan’s plan, not make our own. If we can’t obtain those, we are meddlers interfering where we shouldn’t."

He's not sorry; he's trying to control their involvement. Since no one but Roher knows of the orrery, that’s an excuse to sit on your hands doing nothing.

“If I can get those?” questioned Amdirlain.

Barhador’s mouth twisted, ready to scoff in disbelief. “Then I would bow and call you High Conductor if your ego requires it. You’re frankly a child who needs guidance.”

The forest resonated with similar attitudes before others voiced their disgust. Despite the swathe of objections that rose in her defence, a spark of pain-inspired rage burned in Amdirlain’s mind, and she had to push it away.

“I’ve no desire for titles, and I’m not even big on formalities,” replied Amdirlain. “I wouldn’t consider myself in a position to comment on what you crave. However, you should know I have the Songbird’s original plans in an orrery. I’ve not tried to find any planet within it since it contains a record of every star and its planets for every planned galaxy. To add to the challenge, tons have yet to be created. Though I will say this: in Gideon’s request to bring life to the sterile world, they didn’t ask it to be recreated to the planned state but simply for life to be returned.”

“How did you come by this treasure trove of music?” scoffed Barhador lightly, and others echoed his scepticism.

“Orhêthurin left it and the harp Gilorn in the care of an Adamantine Dragon,” responded Amdirlain. “Gideon confirmed its contents. You should remember the name Gideon but as in the Aspect of Knowledge, in case your recollections have misplaced such a minor name.”

Barhador tensed up but replied in a calm tone that didn’t match his inner bile. “I’ve spoken with Gilorn and been critiqued by her. You have Lady Orhêthurin features and her attitude, but just as I can’t hear Gilorn’s song, neither can I hear yours.”

Oh, that gets under your skin, doesn’t it?

“That’s because I’m both Hidden and a Fallen until I break the curse on me. Unfortunately, this has caused me to accumulate two unpleasant auras, which I’ve restrained beneath concealments,” said Amdirlain.

“Is there no way you can let us hear it?” probed Barhador.

Like I’d let you hear fuck all about me, conceited arsehole. Child? Maybe in terms of overall age, but what have you done lately? Your song doesn’t possess a fraction of Roher’s strength.

“You wouldn’t like to hear my song, Barhador, and I wouldn’t let it linger in this forest to be an unpleasant reminder of my first visit,” replied Amdirlain. “Both my flesh and Soul are full of fresh and old pain, and I’m not inclined to share suffering with anyone. After Balnérith’s betrayal, I understand the reluctance to take things at face value, but I’m not offering fancy words or expecting even promises. Anyone who helps can work as much or as little as they like, quit when they like, and return when they like.”

“When we endured our state trapped in the Abyss, Amdirlain helped without asking,” interjected Laleither, her words audible to every adult. Amdirlain listened to the veils, hiding the conversation from children in every household, and she paid particular attention to Laleither and Roher’s sleeping children. Their dwelling ran along the slope of a hill between giant trees and was rich with the lingering melodies of their growing family.

The maternal melody that rose from Laleither as she watched over her and Roher’s children caused hollowing blades of jealousy and grief to vomit up from Amdirlain’s Soul. As Laleither continued, Amdirlain had to drag her attention back to the discussion, holding back an urge to flee.

“Amdirlain freed souls before she knew she was an Anar. Repeatedly, she rescued lost Lómë and then aided us in freeing you and others from the royal tower, Barhador. Like my husband, I will assist her in these endeavours without conditions. She still works to oppose Balnérith while we’ve resettled ourselves into a new life. Amdirlain fights our battle for us, and you insult her. A child does not fight a war alone. That you call her one yet haven’t offered help to ease a youth’s burden shows me your nature.”

Was that spike of jealousy because of Orhêthurin and her daughter?

“Balnérith isn’t the be-all and end-all of evil in the realm,” said Amdirlain. “She’s just the one that attacked the Lómë and Anar. I’m seeking people interested in undoing evil work and creating life.”

“Why come to us after doing so much by yourself?” questioned Barhador. “Are you seeking to use us as well?”

The cynical inflections in Barhador’s tone had Amdirlain tempted to remove his teeth.

“I need to reduce the amount of experience I’m getting while I push my True Song’s growth. Teaming up with others who can’t do as much will let me offload the experience the realm rewards for Class-related activities,” smiled Amdirlain. “I’m trying to grow my True Song, but I keep increasing levels and want to avoid that right now.”

“Nonsense, now you’re just being insulting,” scoffed Barhador.

“No, I’m just being factual,” replied Amdirlain. “You’re the one that has provided insults.”

“Indeed, she is right on both counts,” Roher confirmed. “I know it’s hard to believe without witnessing, but it’s true. When the Royal Tower was shifted, Amdirlain supported hundreds of singers by herself. Truly, the effort Isa and Gail provided was marginal compared to her contribution.”

Gideon, I could use a few dozen worlds to heal, preferably where I won’t get much experience.

Amdirlain mentally crossed her fingers and tried Analysis. The work list presented thousands of worlds whose needs ranged from environmental disasters to adding modifications to plant life. None of them were things she’d gotten experience for in the past, and surprisingly, there wasn’t a note.

Okay, I can work with this, Gideon.

Amdirlain put the list into a memory crystal and floated it across to Roher.

“How about we cut to the chase, and I provide proof,” proposed Amdirlain as Roher claimed the crystal from midair. “Roher, would you do me a favour? Here is a list of places that need help. Would you open up a random one from anywhere on the list? Place the Gate anywhere beyond the forest edge. I’ll handle some minor singing for those who need evidence.”

“You wish to breach the wards,” accused Barhador.

‘Can I eat him?’ projected Sarah.

“No, that’s why I asked Roher to set it outside the forest,” replied Amdirlain. “Now, let’s get this done since you’ll keep finding excuses otherwise.”

Lembiel cleared her throat. “Might I speak?”

Amdirlain turned back to the knight standing where they’d appeared, and they glanced at the speaker’s staff in her hand. “Go right ahead.”

“I object to a noisy minority influencing how things should be,” stated Lembiel. “You’ve explained your intention and only asked those who wish to assist you. Those not interested have nothing to add to this discussion. I heard my father’s Soul return to the purification field in our cavern. He was the first you saved, and he spoke of the respect you showed him even after the form that trapped him tried to kill you. As you showed respect to strangers, we should not treat you with unworthy suspicion.”

Barhador argued, “You’ve got a confessed emotional basis, and we have already experienced betrayal. Amdirlain likely expects us to complete most of the work she proposes.”

Dry laughter barked from Roher's lips.

So it was right to trust a complete outsider but not trust the Titan, Orhêthurin, or me. Is he trying to infer he knows my name for a summoning?

“Yes, you lost family, but so did we all. Yet we suffered the consequences that Balnérith’s plan let you avoid. You and others in the tower made the choices for us and drifted through time unscathed until the traitors you’d allowed to fester lashed out,” rebuffed Lembiel. “The rest of us didn’t get a say, so you don’t get to stop me from helping Amdirlain. You should be ashamed to say that she has provided insufficient proof of her goodwill.”

There was a cascade of agreements from many who’d quietly listened to that point, the sound drowning out more naysayers.

“I thought Barhador would accept we were at fault with how he started. He doesn’t speak for me. I was a Royal Knight in the tower, and while I also drifted through time, I got no say in the proceedings. Without Roher’s protection, we know the traitors would have also slain us. It was humbling to see how far our ability in True Song has gone to seed,” announced another knight, and others signalled their agreement. “I would like to work with you, Amdirlain.”

“There are always family members who don’t get along,” replied Amdirlain. “Barhador, you called me a child, and there is truth in that. I’m not even a century old, even if you include the life I remember and consider my own.”

A group aligned with Barhador started muttering smugly, exchanging messages about guiding her. Messages that they seemed to think she couldn’t hear, yet many council members in the glade expressed outrage.

Amdirlain’s steely tones slammed down on Barhador as he sought to use the momentum of his supporters. “My work has no pay but the pleasure of success and creation. I’ve already healed thousands of worlds, stopped an Eldritch invasion, and resealed others in their prisons. While I wanted help to recreate destroyed life on planets, the list I provided Roher has worlds that need healing and adjustments instead of creating life from scratch. Would anyone like to hear those simply in need of repair?”

The council members near Roher nodded, and the disappointment that had grown within them at Barhador’s interjections eased.

“Should I share the songs?” Roher inquired. “Those interested can assess them and better understand what you propose.”

Maybe I shouldn’t stick around and play with the children.

“No, I will move outside the wards to the south and open gates from there. I was just going to do one from here, but since Barhador and his toadies doubted my capabilities so blatantly, I’ll provide a petty show,” stated Amdirlain, passing the staff back to Roher. “I’ll give people a few minutes to get into position in case their Resonance can’t reach the southern border.”

‘Not quite the reception I hoped you’d get, but most seem fine,’ Sarah’s mental touch projected a mix of amusement and frustration. ‘It seems others could do with a fresh start.’

Amdirlain reappeared by herself where the knights had initially greeted them. While she waited for anyone to shift closer, she reviewed the melodies Gideon had provided. Within a few minutes, thousands had moved, and even more opened focal points for scrying based on the song of her relocation.

“You think I can’t hear your songs?” questioned Amdirlain. Her words carried effortlessly through the wards that covered the forest to the ears of those with sour, ancient tones.

Tirriel and Lembiel appeared nearby, accompanied by Sarah. Her gaze narrowed, and she stared questioningly at Amdirlain’s back.

I shouldn’t have left her in the clearing; it was too much of a tell about my emotional mess. Anyway, there’s no point in doing this slow and steady—it wouldn’t prove anything.

Palm-sized gates burst open to every planet at once, a segmented wall that allowed those in range to sense the melodies of the diverse worlds.

‘Roher has you on the big screen. I think you’re more annoyed than you let on. Try not to give the game away as you’ll regret it later, even if nothing bad happens,’ projected Sarah.

Amdirlain smiled and pulsed acknowledgement. ‘Nothing on the list is outside the Anar capacity, and it’s all in the middle range so they can hear it sung.’

Sections of land where life clung on after the devastation of meteor strikes or volcanic eruptions bloomed back to life. Millions of songs healed biomes from mountain tops to deep oceans. In healthy worlds, the changes were distinct; fields and forests transformed; in them, a background hum of elemental affinities rose. Amdirlain pushed her limits, completing most of the work in seconds.

The rushed effort to undertake the repairs and changes strained Amdirlain’s flesh. As she tied up the last pieces, she lifted clear of the grass, and Phoenix’s Rapture flared to life, stretching out flames in massive wings behind her.

The energy reached beyond Amdirlain’s concealments to convey a tale. An inferno of creation renewed rent flesh, and the combination of power and ignored agony within the flames caused all the Lómë observers to flinch back. Although Sarah caught their reactions, her posture didn’t waver.

After Amdirlain’s external injuries had healed, she turned off the power and landed.

The silence from the observers lingered on.

I shouldn’t have done all of the songs at once. It didn’t let me properly listen to them, and I didn’t correct enough issues to improve my understanding of the interactions.

“You’ve heard their songs, and Roher has the crystal, so you can scry them whenever you want,” said Amdirlain. “But they were secondary to the worlds I want to heal.”

With that, she closed the gates and opened a single Gate to one world that Orcus’ forces had purged. The haze of the place had faded since the closure of the abyssal gates, but the world’s music was sad and grim.

“This world once contained more living beings than Vehtë, so I plan to bring it back to life rather than leave it in this state. The choice is up to you if you want to help,” said Amdirlain flatly.

“The Lady of Dawn,” murmured Barhador, having raised to his feet in his distant home.

“No, I don’t come close to Orhêthurin,” responded Amdirlain. “And neither the Anar nor the Lómë ever awarded titles from previous lives to those reincarnated. I believe in determining advancement by merit, so let’s not change that standard.”

Barhador coughed. “That is your title.”

“You treated me with suspicion and contempt, and now you want me to accept empty titles? Do you even remember where that title originated from? How about you swallow your pride and genuinely apologise for your insinuations and accusations first?” snapped Amdirlain. “I can still hear your arrogance despite your act, and your self-centred song frankly disgusts me. Did you grow corrupt in your old age or come to it young? Gilorn, do you want to stay here or come along?”

Gilorn appeared sitting on the grass beside Amdirlain. “I’ll accompany you, Amdirlain. I hope you’re ready to work hard again after your rest.”

“You can’t just take her,” protested Barhador. “The Anar Queen left her in our care.”

Does he think I teleported Gilorn?

“Try me, Barhador! I’ll see if I can earn another title, perhaps ‘Titan’s Executioner’. Now I need to work on my True Song,” replied Amdirlain, and she laid a hand trembling with rage atop the harp.

“Yes, it’s still so weak,” Gilorn replied with a sharp, humorous run of notes.

“I know, right,” quipped Amdirlain, and she wiped all traces the Phoenix’s Rapture had left behind. “Gideon has repeatedly made my inadequacies clear.”

‘Too angry to speak to the kids?’ Sarah inquired mentally.

Amdirlain mentally sighed. ‘I’m too emotionally fucked up. I shouldn’t inflict that on anyone, let alone kids.’

“Please stay longer, Amdirlain,” said Tirriel. “Barhador does not speak for the rest of us, and I know many were eager to speak with you informally even before that display. The amount of life you restored in one region alone adds to my amazement.”

“She had sour notes from overcompensating on problem harmonics,” critiqued Gilorn. “Amdirlain should have easily been able to handle three times that many songs at her strength.”

“I apologise for my rudeness,” stated Barhador, sounding as if the words were being dragged out of him despite no outside pressure.

“You’d be better off keeping your mouth shut, Barhador. I could hear the falseness of you and your friends at twice this distance,” snapped Amdirlain.

“I could seal it for him,” growled Gilorn, her echoing chords like drawn blades.

Roher coughed. “The councils all agree with Tirrel’s request. Please stay, Amdirlain, as many would like to meet you.”

“While I looked forward to meeting you all, there are enough among you who share Barhador’s sour chords that I’d prefer future contact on neutral ground,” Amdirlain replied. “I’ll advise Roher when I plan to start work and what music is involved. I don’t expect anyone to help, but it would be nice. Otherwise, I’ll just figure out how to handle it alone, and I’m certainly used to that.”

With that, she vanished with Gilorn and Sarah; the song muffled behind concealments left only distorted clues about their destination.