Becoming a Legend
#2 of Auramancer
This is another part of an incomplete work, Auramancer. I'm not sure exactly where this fits in, and it's liable to be a hell of a spoiler for when I do finish, but I had to share it now. It was originally written to this piece of music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1_p3q9x1h0), but has been edited a few times since.
The bow sings to her, itself, the sky... Resonant, the strings weep beneath her touch, harmonies of joy and sorrow tracing the ragged hole within her soul. A beat, layering on, drives her forward, the air itself seeming to shiver with the fervor of her heart. It strains against her chest, as if to break once more, a desperate pulse of life and pain. On it thrums, the deep tenor of the notes pulling at her core, emotions locked away boiling to the surface. The music rises...
Tears flowing, she weeps for what might have been, what could have shone, brilliant as the stars themselves. Her heartsong keens, strings weeping in silence, for all the world to hear. And yet it is the air that surrenders, shimmering with the power and fury of one who has not, will not, give in, shining though her grief. She pours forth the notes, each building on the last until it seems the whole world will drown in music, and she is no longer alone.
The symphony has come.
It comes as an electric shock, the return of what she thought she had lost, the shimmer of wings in starlight. *I closed myself off for so long...* She falters, the music flickering for half a moment against the night. But even with her pause, it refuses to leave her, somehow sensing... somehow knowing. Is it supposed to be able to do this? She doesn't know, hands moving numbly against the instrument for a few more seconds, her own notes not in tune, not right, not even close to matching what is taking place around her. She drops the bow, falling to her knees in the soft grass, and heaves. Soft wood complains at her grip, creaking beneath the wracking waves of pressure as her elbows dig into soft dirt. She sobs.
Her left hand claws furrows in the dirt as she curls inwards, the passing of time not making the hurt any less, only dimming the ability to feel, numbing her heart against the pain. The future, the past, the present... It is too much for her to bear, love, hate, fear, and loss rushing in, assaulting from all directions. Wrapped up in her cage, she barely feels the starting drops, nature echoing her with a warm, soft rain. She knows not what she is, who she is, why she and she alone must carry this pain. And yet... she is not alone. Only now, when the walls come crashing down, can she see it. The music has not left her... and it never really did. Through her self-imposed bars, it touches her, opens her, refuses to let her break. It cannot mend the scars, but it holds, cherishes, and loves until she is strong enough to stand again.
She lays there for a long time, the music soaring, touching, crying for her, with her, terrifying her. And yet... it does not shield her, shuddering with her loss as tremulously as she herself... Protection is not its gift. Resonance is. It offers only empathy, and what a connection it is, with the ability to shatter the sky itself, to rend the rock and freeze the very waters of the sea. She knew this, but hid from it, scared of herself and what this might mean. And now, for the first time, she can see *all* of it, clear as a summer's day.
Still, the tears come, her dress long since soaked by the rain, the ruined fabric clinging to her skin. Droplets glisten against the shining wood of her instrument, and she pulls it close, to shield it from the storm. In this moment, it is beyond precious, a living memory of what she shared, and what she may one day become again. The music dims as she stands shakily, ghostly afterimages fading into the night as she staggers back down the hill.