Chapter 25

If you believe my tale so far, though I cannot be sure—you seem to have taken lessons from Livingstone himself—you are a saint. It has been so long, so many years. That my memory still serves me is nothing less incredible than this story. Now, when I tell you that Sofi sang Warren free from bondage, this comes as no lie. Truly our musicians have very little concept of the whole of what song truly is. They skirt its wondrous power, but so slightly that all we can gather from this shadow of song is a semi-heightened emotional response. But we live in such a dark history—the light must travel so deep to find us that its potency is lessened to such a degree that abuse of this power does not make your hair stand on end and your insides squirm inside you. We content ourselves with the faintest echoes of what song truly is.
I tell you, in other histories, other ways, centered more closely to the One who is music itself, song has power enough to create worlds! I am convinced that song was at the beginning of all things and will be again, at the end. Ah, I see in your eyes a question! Do I plainly speak of God? Sofi did. And because she was the most intelligent person I’ve ever crossed paths with, I don’t think I could argue. She had a rare mind, I tell you—a gift. And no one knew that mind better than Warren Spicks. They were together so long…but I run ahead of myself.
The song Sofi sang absolutely gripped Warren’s soul. He certainly didn’t want to move, to do anything other than listen—and I’m not convinced he could have done otherwise. Because even in this place of darkness, the currents of musicality ran strong. And though these withered sons of Zoe, these fallen Tokleks had cut themselves forever from this song that had been their life, these deep waters of song existed just a hand-breadth away, forever looming, eternally unreachable. But Sofi bridged that gap easily. And the raw flooding power of her song broke the chains of darkness and bathed them in a circle of the purest white light.
Warren felt it on his eyelids, but he dared not open his eyes—even though it hadn’t been long since he’d been in the light, the darkness he’d last seen still imprinted his memory and somehow kept him from looking for the source of the brightness. The song illuminated his inner being enough as it was. He felt as if he were simply floating. The soft, trilling notes were swelling with power with each stanza that flowed from Sofi’s tongue. And as the song gained momentum, one long solid note jarred his eyelids open.
What Warren saw only enhanced what he had been hearing. A hundred or more of the wraiths were gathered around Sofi, who stood in their midst, arms outstretched, face skyward. These creatures that had been softly glowing in the howling dark were now black as obsidian, with only the faintest hint of blue in their cracked but semi-insubstantial bodies. All of them quivered—some positively shook—at the sound of her voice. At once Warren trembled in spite of himself; he wondered what sense of salvation these beings imagined Sofi bearing. Or was it judgment? Were they so interminably drawn to song, even the song that condemned them, that they had to listen, even if they shuddered at its sentence? And he couldn’t tell. The answer eluded him. But he knew one thing for sure: Ed would have exploded with happiness if he could have heard this. And somehow, Warren figured whatever chasm split this realm, Sofi’s song was incapable of being confined to one—he imagined Ed rowing delightedly for Zoe down some far channel and upon hearing the first small notes stopping his actions completely and listening. He could see those big, childlike eyes bursting with joy as the song grew and filled the tunnel.
When Warren looked above Sofi, who stood, arms outstretched, indeed in the central chamber just as he had predicted—a place very much changed from where he had first encountered Zoe—he found the source of light: what seemed a pinprick hole in the top of the curved ceiling several hundred feet above them. This hazy orb of brightness grew in size, until it distinctly split into three separate points of light. Warren wondered, as the three points spread apart in linear fashion, whether the light was entering the chamber from beyond the convex ceiling or from some other point beyond this realm of darkness. This light certainly must have been from Zoe—he noticed its effect upon the wraiths: they shrunk in size as the light brightened.
The beings that had stood nearly twice his size now seemed but children huddled around Sofi—whose song seemed to beckon the light to grow and the shadows to diminish. Their wide vacant eyes however did not seem to plead for help—rather a quaking, rebellious resolve to stand indifferent to the light while incapable of turning from the song. Except for one. One cracked, crumbling wraith managed to fall forward before Sofi, and reach a long withered finger for the edge of her pant leg.
Warren felt himself gasp at the immediate effect. From the now circling points of light above, a beam of light washed over Sofi and the creature of stone. At the first touch of the light on the stone skin, the cracks glowed brightly, as if energy itself was being infused into the wraith. Pure white light radiated from its eyes, its mouth. Then it pushed itself up and stretched, seeming to grow again—the cracks of light widening as it flexed what seemed weary joints. And like a chicken hatching from an egg, the fractures widened and small dissolving pieces of stone fell to the floor. And where Warren had remembered only a softly crumbling wisp of a tail, two great, powerful legs stood, with feet as large as an elephant’s.
And the very moment it found strength in its legs, and softness in its skin, the son of Zoe fell to its face as its wounds were healed. Its chest heaved and fingers clutched at the darkened stone beneath it. But the brightness that had been seeping from the stretching cracks now made the former wraith feel less fractured as it shed its outer shell and look more luminous. In a matter of seconds, the resemblance to humanity was unquestionable, and Warren knew that the life of Zoe was re-entering this one. Then the creature pulled itself quickly to its knees, and searched around it, as if it were being addressed. It turned and bowed again sloppily—for it seemed to Warren that his joints were still more stone than ligament. But then its eyes reflected something more than the light Sofi had summoned—the son of Zoe reached out and was pulled to its feet by an invisible hand. And it smiled.
Warren was stunned by the smile. This must have been the same captivating creature of Ed’s memories—a son of Zoe as it should have been. Warren knew it could only have beheld Zoe herself. And at once, it began to sing and to stand. But at the same moment, it began to vanish—shifting into an entirely different phase of existence, into the light and presence of Zoe. How content it looked! How absolutely fulfilled! Warren found himself both invigorated and saddened by every second that passed, until the former wraith was gone completely.
Sofi’s song seemed to abate as well; the tone had changed from proclamation to what Warren could only term serenity. He watched as Sofi strode around the now ankle-sized wraiths staring back at here, almost as if she wanted to pet them gently on the head and give them her blessing. But each seemed to cower, in both fear and irritation, when she came to close. When it appeared to Warren that she had sung all she needed to, she beckoned Warren to herself in song—though he never could remember exactly how she had called out to him while still singing. He obeyed, smiling. Livingstone also came out from the shadows, and Old Fred, with Ali on his shoulder, too stepped into the light engulfing Sofi. She smiled a smile of pure grace at her companions and sung them onto the walkways of the air and up through the now quite-large hole of light in the ceiling. When all four of them stepped onto what seemed a well-lit concrete corridor, the hole behind them vanished, and Sofi finished her song. But before anyone could speak, a voice called to them from around the corner in front of them.
Warren recognized the voice instantly; it was the Toklek of light, rower for Zoe, Ed himself. He waddled up to them, shouting Warren’s name. “You found them, I know it! And you showed her to sing, as I had shown you. What a marvelous song!” Warren smiled and enveloped the Toklek in a big hug—and it wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. It fidgeted a bit until Warren relaxed his grip, but seemed to forget its confusion in the hasty introductions Warren put forth.
“This is Livingstone…er…Oscar. And next to him Old Fred with Ali on his shoulder…” Warren began. The wide-eyed creature nodding at each one, but it didn’t go beyond Warren’s notice that he seemed particularly taken with Sofi, as his eyes grew wide and fell into an awestruck stare. Sofi held her lips together tightly, blushing a bit at the attention the Toklek gave her, and Warren, trying to spare her embarrassment, concluded, “and this is Sofi—the one who sang. “
“And what a beautiful song!” Ed praised. “You are the image of Zoe herself, her beauty is your own, shines through you like light through the purest water. And your voice, it was as if she was calling out to me herself! Oh wonderful Sofi, do tell me you’ve come to stay!” Warren watched as Sofi glanced between him and Ed, effectively silenced by Ed’s admirations.
“Ah…” he said after a couple long seconds, “guys, this is a Toklek, loyal servant of Zoe, whom I call Ed.” Livingstone nodded slightly and Old Fred extended a large hand, which Ed simply stared at in curiosity. After another few stiff moments, Fredric pulled his hand back somewhat self-consciously and scratched at his lower jaw—which by now sprouted a swath of pure white scruff. Ali chirped to break the silence—this seemed to remind Ed of something.
“My mistress sends her greetings to you three,” Ed nodded to Livingstone, Old Fred, and Sofi, “and has sent me with a gift for you, Warren.” He fished what seemed to be a large pearl from one of his many pockets on his leather jerkin. Warren held out both hands, palms upturned, to receive it. The dimly glowing orb weighed much less than he expected and was slightly warm to the touch.
“What is it?” he wondered aloud.
“A mapping stone. ‘May it guide you always toward your goal’ she told me to tell you,” Ed added quickly. Livingstone’s eyes lit with interest, but Sofi stepped closer to Warren to gaze at the object.
“How does it work?” she asked.
“Squeeze it,” Ed offered. Warren looked at Ed, then Sofi, then back to the orb in his hands; he took it between an index finger and thumb and pressed upon it lightly. The surface gave a little bit, like a rubber ball, then popped like a pickle jar lid. For a moment the mapping stone pulsed brightly with light, forcing Warren and the others to squint. Then, hanging before them in the air, was a series of what seemed to Warren interconnected tunnels in three dimensions. A small red beacon was flashing in one of them, slowly rising upwards.
“We are here,” Ed pointed to the red dot. “And my mistress has designated your first waypoint, which is here,” it said, stretching and pointing to a glimmering green point of light. The path between the two seemed fairly complex—but not impossible—to Warren. “To reach it on time, you should go, Warren,” it stated, but then looked to Sofi, “but must you take her with you?” Warren chuckled.
“Yes, Ed, I must,” Warren replied. Ed sighed and glanced to all three of them.
“I will remember you well—I will tell your tale for many tides, to every soul I meet. But my barge awaits me, yes, I have many channels to row. Farewell friends and remember to sing! Oh sing, for I will hear it, no matter the distance,” Ed encouraged, walking backwards and bowing several times. Then he spun and waddled back around the corner from which he had come. As the sound of slapping feet retreated down the corridor, Warren looked to his companions, then back to the map hanging in the air.
“Well what do you think?” he asked no one specifically.
Sofi answered him, her eyes focused on the green point of light. “I think we have some distance to cover.”