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Kaya woke from her nightmare with a start, the shadows that had chased her through her dreams creeping into the darkest corners of her tiny bedroom. The room was already as dark as a tomb, but the shadow that pursued her was darker yet. Though she was under a half dozen thick, woolen blankets, she shivered as she sensed the darkness surrounding her.
She sealed her lips shut against the urge to whimper. To cry out was to invite reprimand or, worse, sympathy that was thinner than a sheet of worn paper. The only presence in her room less welcome than the darkness was that of her parents and their loud, empty proclamations of love. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and wiggled deeper as though her bed was capable of providing the comfort her parents didn’t.
The darkness surrounded, but it didn’t touch. There were nights when Kaya wished it would. Its silent promises of violence and sacrifice were somehow worse than the deeds themselves. She preferred the sting of her cheek to the threat of an upraised hand. The sting might hurt, but it meant the pain was over and the healing could begin.
In defiance of the suffocating shadows, she closed her eyes and sought the Song. It was warmth and light, always present, always hidden just beneath the surface of things. Its melodies were of love and meaning, of right action and a deeper order. The Master might never use such language to describe the music, but every passing year added another layer of doubt on top of her childhood beliefs.
By her counting, she was twelve, and though no one celebrated the day of her birth anymore, she was certain her thirteenth approached soon. That day, which was supposed to be a celebration, now scared her. She couldn’t point to any one detail and justify her fear, but she sensed the danger of it, like a prey animal being hunted by one of the beasts of the surface.
It was in the quiet whispers her parents shared after they thought she was sound asleep. In the way the Master tested her more regularly now, as though afraid she wouldn’t be ready to perform for an important event. More than anything, it was in the way the darkness hung over her bed at night, patiently but eagerly awaiting a day that quickly approached.
She listened to the Song and took comfort in its reassurances. The world she walked was wrong and twisted, but the world beyond her invisible cage still listened to the pure Song, the notes that the darkness hadn’t corrupted.
She hoped that someday she’d experience that world.
As she sank deeper into the Song, its notes changed. They took on an edge, a sharpness that hadn’t been there before. She focused, listening to the Song with both body and spirit.
The Song didn’t sing itself in words, but with concepts, with the base reality of the world, that language could only point at. It couldn’t be translated but only understood. Tonight, the Song called for her in a way it never had before. It pleaded for her and showed her what must be done. Her eyes went wide as she understood.
Despite everything she endured daily, the greater part of her resisted. Such was the comfort of the familiar, even if the familiar was cold, heartless, and full of lies. It was still the world she knew, and the Song asked for her to give up all of it.
She trusted the Song. It was the only part of her life that was true and good, but it had never asked so much from her.
The darkness surged around her as though it knew what transpired in the secret chambers of Kaya’s heart. She was sure it intended to intimidate, but it convinced her instead. Even if the Song demanded everything of her, it would take less than those who glued empty smiles upon their faces and claimed they loved her.
She threw her covers off, rolled out of bed, and got dressed in the pitch darkness of her room. Her parents were still awake and in the living room, and they’d react as soon as they saw a light under her door. Better for her to take the lead while she could.
Once dressed, she cast her imagination around the room, wondering if there was anything else she should take. There was precious little for her to consider. It had been years since her parents had seen fit to gift her with a toy, claiming they were too childish for someone as important as her. Everything that was precious was hidden in her memories, so there was nothing to take.
She turned to face the door and took a steadying breath. As soon as her heart stopped pounding in her chest, she reached out and switched on the light. The lone lamp on the wall came to life, filling her room with a soft, warm light gifted to her from the Engine.
As she expected, the light’s appearance caused a quiet commotion in the living room as her parents untangled themselves from one another on the couch. She opened the door and stepped through before they could finish straightening their clothes. Light from her room spilled out into the living room, and she advanced, staying within the warm glow.
“Is something wrong, Kaya?” Father asked, trying to sound solemn even though he hadn’t yet gotten his pants up past his knees.
“Yes, Kaya, is something wrong?” Mother echoed. She was more annoyed than concerned, but Kaya thought she saw something else in her eyes, and it was confirmed when Mother glanced away, unable to meet her daughter’s even gaze.
She feared Kaya.
So did Father, but he disguised it better. “Kaya?” he asked.
She turned her gaze to him, but he didn’t look away. Of the two, he was the stronger, the one who truly believed. Mother followed, content to be standing in his shadow as he strode toward his brighter future.
He was the one who would need to be convinced, but fortunately, he was the easier of the two to convince. He already believed, and so everything he saw and heard was squeezed into the box of those beliefs, making him susceptible to deception. Mother, not so strong in her husband’s faith, tended to see events and people more as they were.
“The Engine speaks to me,” she said. “It calls to me tonight.”
Mother shook her head, but Father leaned forward, his pants forgotten for the moment. “What does it say?”
Kaya shrugged, feigning indifference. Her parents might be blinded by their beliefs and their ambition, but they weren’t so blind as to miss that Kaya considered her gift equal parts blessing and curse. “That’s all I can hear, but it won’t let me sleep. I think I need to visit the Engine tonight.”
It seemed such an apparent lie to Kaya, but Father nodded as though he’d been expecting something like this. Mother was skeptical, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Father wouldn’t listen to her anyway, not now. She stood. “If you’re going to take her, you should go now.” She leaned in close and whispered loudly enough for Kaya to hear. “I’ll keep the bed warm for you.”
Kaya didn’t miss the way Mother’s eyes gleefully flicked over to her as she whispered into Father’s ear, but she pretended to be oblivious. She made Kaya call her mother, but she wasn’t the woman who’d given her life to give birth to Kaya. She’d only found Father after he’d become one of Nightkeep’s Singers, and thus entitled to privileges few other families enjoyed.
Father nodded eagerly, and the decision was made without debate. He finished pulling his pants up as he stood. He considered for a moment, then threw on the white robes of his order, straightening them out in a mirror before gesturing for the two of them to leave the home.
Out in the hallway, all the lamps had been dimmed for the evening hours. Father pointed outward. “We’ll take you to see the Master. He’ll want to hear what you have to say.”
Kaya masked the sudden pounding of her heart with a quick nod. Father led the way,
though Kaya had walked this very route so often the past few weeks she was halfway convinced she could navigate the twisting passages with her eyes closed.
Two full-fledged Swords guarded the Master’s door, and they didn’t seem particularly pleased to have their quiet evening interrupted by a disheveled Singer and his strange daughter.
“What do you want?” the first guard growled.
Kaya stared hard at her feet, convinced that if she so much as glanced up, they would know she had lied.
Father, thankfully, was more than happy to serve as her unwitting shield. He was a Singer, used to respect and deference, and didn’t take kindly to the guard’s short temper. “We’re here to see the Master, and before you tell me he’s sleeping, I know, but this is important enough that he would want to be woken up. I’m not fool enough to risk his wrath otherwise.”
There was a moment of silence, then one of the guards grunted and went inside the Master’s home to wake him.
They waited, and Kaya continued to stare at her feet. The light leather shoes she wore were getting small, her big toe close to punching out of its tight confinement.
A minute later, the door opened and the guard said, “You can go into the living room. He’ll be with you in a moment.”
It was either a sign of their trust or due to a direct order from the Master, but the guards let the pair in without an escort. Kaya allowed herself a small sigh of relief. The first challenges had been overcome, but the most difficult remained.
“Look up,” Father said quietly.
Kaya didn’t want to, but it was good advice, so she did. The Master’s room was a study in understated elegance. His living room was the size of Kaya’s entire apartment, and it was filled with a variety of plush rocking chairs that looked like they hadn’t been sat in since the day they’d entered the home. Two paintings hung on opposite walls. One was an artist’s representation of the three great cities of Nightkeep, and the other was of a landscape, of a surface Kaya had never seen with her own eyes. She wondered if the placement of the paintings had any significance.
She stepped closer to the landscape painting. It called to her, not like the Song did, but it sparked something primal, a desire to stand on top of a rocky promontory and look out over the land. She belonged on the surface.
It was a fool’s dream, of course. If she wanted a view, anyone could see farther by visiting any of the observation platforms at the bottom of the city,
but it wasn’t the same as hiking to the top of a hill. She didn’t know why she was so convinced of that fact, but her spirit sang as she imagined the breathless views from the top of a mountain peak.
The song ended the moment the Master stepped into the room, the darkness from Kaya’s room and nightmares hiding comfortably in his shadow.
Kaya and Father both bowed deeply, instinct and tradition taking over. The Master grumbled, “What’s the meaning of this?”
“My daughter, Master,” Father said.
The Master turned to her, a question written in his gaze.
She did her best not to flinch away from that hard stare but took comfort in knowing few met his eyes directly. “As I slept tonight, the Engine called to me. It wants me to visit, though for what reason, I do not know.”
The Master’s eyes flicked to her wrists. “Were you in contact with any shards?”
Kaya cast her eyes down. “No, Master.”
It was dangerous to admit as much. They believed the Song could only be heard through the shards, but their imaginations were limited by ancient traditions. Admitting she could hear the Song without made her even more important in their eyes. It meant her scheme might work, but it also meant they would never willingly let her go.
He thought for a moment. The darkness hiding in his shadow roiled, eager to escape its bounds and wrap itself around her. For now, the Song kept it at bay. Kaya waited for her answer, almost certain it would be “no.”
“Then let’s see what we can learn,” the Master said. He looked at Father. “It’s earlier than I expected, but we’d be fools not to seize the opportunity. Even if it’s nothing, it’s worth the loss of a few hours of sleep.”
Father nodded. “I’d thought the same.”
They left the Master’s home together, the Master on her right and Father on her left. The two guards, always by the Master’s side, followed half a dozen paces behind. Darkness surrounded her, shifting as the adults’ shadows twisted when they walked past the dimly lit hallway lamps. It cackled as though laughing at her plan. She couldn’t hear the Song over its mocking, but she hoped she wouldn’t be cut off for long.
Every door opened to the Master without question on their journey inward and toward
the Engine room. As they reached a stairwell and started down the steep and narrow passage, Master asked, “What did it feel like?”
She’d feared a questioning like this. The Master believed in the darkness, just as Father did, but he justified his beliefs with the veneer of reason. He was more likely to find holes in her explanations.
“It was like a tug on my spirit. A sensation that I had to go to the Engine room immediately.”
“I’m eager to learn what’s in store for you,” Master said.
The tone of his voice made her shiver, and she suddenly doubted the wisdom of trusting the Song. The Master’s eagerness was palpable, and hadn’t he said, back in his home, that it was earlier than he’d expected? What if she’d fallen under the influence of the darkness, too? She felt certain it was the Song, but could she know for sure? If the shadow could sway skilled men like Father and Master, what hope did she have against it?
Unfortunately, the time for doubt had ended when she’d turned the light on in her room. Since that moment, her path had been determined. All that remained was to see where the path led.
The closer they came to the Engine, the farther the darkness receded. It stopped surrounding Kaya, opting instead to hide within the shadows of Master and Father. As it condensed, she felt its power more clearly, the hooks it set deep in the hearts of the two men.
She felt sorry for Father. How much of his behavior toward her was because of the darkness and how much came from his own heart? There was no way to tell, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever know.
By the time they reached the door to the Engine room, the darkness had retreated nearly all the way back into its hosts. The Master bowed to the four Swords standing guard at the door and they opened it for him without question. The heavy metal door swung open silently, revealing the flickering blue light of the Engine within. ...
