The Singer - Hunter Elizabeth (мир книг .txt) 📗

“Do you want to sit near the front?”

“No.” She felt conspicuous enough.

“That’s fine.” Astrid found a spot near the back wall. It was cooler, as the air leaked in from cracks in the wall, but there were enough people and heaters that Ava wasn’t uncomfortable.

“How much of the Old Language do you understand?” Astrid asked.

“Not much. Just a few things, though I’ve heard it plenty, of course.”

Astrid’s eyes lit. “You might understand more after tonight. The songs might help your understanding.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just listen.”

After a few more minutes, everyone seemed to have arrived. Ava even spotted Damien across the barn, near the side door, standing by himself but staring at his mate. Ava also noticed Sari sneaking glances at him and trying to hide nerves.

“Hmm. Something definitely going on there.”

Astrid followed her eyes. “It’s about time.”

“Right?”

Orsala stood, and immediately everyone fell silent.

“We are here to celebrate a new sister among us and a sister returned home.” Orsala’s eyes met hers, but luckily she didn’t ask Ava to stand or single her out in any way. She continued, a smile spread across her face. “As is our custom, we welcome our sister Ava with the songs of our fathers. It is with our voices we remember, with our ears we understand. For our fathers gave us the gift of their songs, and it is our duty to sing them. It is our joy to remember. And as we create new life and preserve the safety of those under our care—” Orsala nodded to Sari. “We hold in our hearts and minds the stories of our past and the power they give us. For as we create and protect, we reflect the will of heaven on earth.”

Ava felt a chill travel down her spine. Goose bumps rose on her arms as the room seemed to fill with a humming noise. It wasn’t unlike the hum she’d heard on the first day approaching Sarihofn. It was a low thrum that traveled along her skin and seemed to settle on the back of her neck. Then her mouth dropped open in surprise as she realized some of the hum came from her own throat.

She barely felt it, but it was there. And as her voice joined the others in the room, a single tone rang out, high and clear at the front of the room. Astrid gripped her right hand, and another woman reached for her left. Ava felt no urge to pull away. No discomfort. She realized the hum that had started in her throat had traveled down each arm and was linked with the same resonance coming from both Astrid and the woman to her left. The noise surged with life and magic. The air grew electric, snapping around her as she felt the hair on her arms rise.

Ava was one and part of everything in that moment. Tears came to her eyes as she watched the small older woman with the silver hair stand in front of the room, her arms lifting as her voice rose.

Then the Irina began to sing.

Some joined with the woman in front, others rang out at different times, harmonizing as they joined, until the room was filled with the tapestry of sound. She did not understand the words, only the clear purity of voice. Ava continued to hum, along with the women she held on to. But as she sang, she felt it. She was connected. She was one with the Irina in the room. Irina long passed. The ones who had been lost. Others still hiding in fear.

As the song continued, images washed across Ava’s mind. Gold and light. She closed her eyes and a twisting kind of rainbow filled her vision. When it faded away, she not only heard—she saw what the old woman sang.

The glory of the angels on the mortal plane. Songs of love and joy.

New life.

Sorrow.

Joy.

Purpose.

Flashes like the images in the book that Malachi had shown her, and behind it all, a chorus of voices rose and fell, filling the air with a magic that elevated her soul. Fed her heart. In that moment, there was no sadness. No heartache. She had not lost Malachi, for she would see him again. In the blink of an eye, they would be together as the angels welcomed them home.

Tears streaming down her face, she opened her eyes to look for the singers. All four women stood at the front of the room, and three of them glowed with gold light. Orsala, Sari, and the old woman’s mating marks shone in the candlelight. Renata’s face was lifted in song, a single circle of magic on her forehead. When Ava looked down, she saw her own arms glowing with Malachi’s marks, saw Astrid’s mating marks lit up as well.

All around the room, the magic swelled and rose, coursing over the company of Irina and their mates. Damien stood across the room, his dark eyes fixed on his mate, his talesm lit up like burning silver. For a moment, she saw their eyes meet.

There it was.

Tears fell down her face when she recognized it. It was the look she’d seen in the manuscript. The expression of perfect completion.

Then the image that Jaron had shown her rose again. The great circle in the sky. A sun twisted with gold and silver. Higher and higher it rose, and Ava realized in the back of her mind that her own voice rose with it. She closed her eyes as the sun faded away to stars. She rose to her feet as a million scattered points of light dotted the heavens, dancing in concert to a growing song.

Then a single voice rose above the others until it was all she could hear.

And Ava realized the voice was hers.

III.

At the edge of the valley, Jaron watched. Opening his mind’s eye, he saw the circle of voices as the daughters of the Forgiven lifted their song. And in his frozen soul, he heard the chorus of angels, calling out in joy as the heavens rang. A gold sea, as calm and clear as a mountain lake. His heart swelled with longing. For peace. For purpose. For home.

Then Jaron heard her. Her voice was different. And yet, somehow, it wasn’t. It lifted over the others as she sang powerfully of the vision he had sent her. It was a song of longing and strength. It was, to the ears of the Fallen, a song of hope.

Jaron closed his eyes and allowed his heart to join the song he had given her.

Barak appeared beside him.

“Can he see her here?” the grey-haired angel asked, always alert to danger.

“Normally he can see her everywhere, as I can. But I cloaked the valley when I knew she would be coming. She’s safe. For now.”

The two stood silently in the darkness as the magic rose in waves, flowing over the land. Elsewhere, the trees had lost their leaves. The ground was harder and the wind more bitter. The haven the daughters of the Forgiven had created was as gentle a place as the harsh Earth could be. When the snow finally fell, it would lie soft on the ground.

“If he sees your fingerprints here, he will know.”

“He will.”

There was silence between them until Barak heard the words that Jaron had not spoken.

“You have distracted him in some way.”

“I have.”

“With the scribe?”

Jaron shrugged. “I was not expecting to have an ally as convenient as him. Even an unwitting one.”

“You call him your ally?”

“He is my ally as long as I can use him.”

The Fallen narrowed his eyes. “The scribe is no ally of mine.”

“We both believe it was her magic that rent heaven, brother. It was her magic that brought him back.”

“So?”

“She tore the fabric of heaven with her magic, brother.”

Barak was silent.

“There must be a reason. And if her magic needed his, then we will use him. Perhaps there are possibilities we have not considered.”

Barak crossed his great arms, covered with the raised talesm of their kind. “He is our ally for as long as he proves useful, and no longer.”

Jaron shrugged. “Of course.”

Then the two Fallen turned their eyes back toward the Irina song and watched the sunrise.

Chapter Eleven

He saw her as soon as he opened his eyes. She was waiting at the edge of the trees with a glorious smile spread across her face.