Witch Born(114)

A part of Senna wondered if she had died.

The Earth Creator cocked her head, listening. “Can you hear it?”

Senna listened to the rumbled lullaby of the earth. It spoke of cover and quiet and hidden places in drums. Secrets of sparkling diamonds and shining gold with the tinkling of chimes. The pacing of the drums picked up, and the woman smiled so broadly her white teeth gleamed. She took Senna’s hand and pressed it against the hot sand. “A mountain aches below. Can you feel it?”

Senna closed her eyes and felt the earth’s pulsing heartbeat as the drums pounded out their rhythm. “Yes,” she breathed. “I feel it.”

Without the need to confer, they began to sing. The earth rumbled, shifting and growling. With a great shuddering, it exploded beneath them. The ground shifted under Senna like a crest of water. She rode the wave upward until she stood at the mountain crest.

Still singing, she stared at the space between her feet, feeling something hot and surging beneath her. She lifted her eyes in question.

The Earth Creator nodded. “Yes.”

Senna sang and the mountain split. Red magma gleamed deep below. She dove inside it without a splash. It didn’t harm her—Somehow she’d known it wouldn’t. She saw nothing in the hot darkness, but she didn’t need to. She swam through the earth’s veins, into vast wells of water that tasted of minerals and sulfur. There were gemstones the size of her fist that chimed like cymbals when she touched them, but she left them where they lay. They were the earth’s hidden treasure, and hidden they would remain.

Always, the Earth Creator was by her side, guiding her. Finally, they entered a pool of water heated by underwater magma. They shot out of a spout, and though Senna still couldn’t see anything, the water changed. It tasted of salt and fish. The ocean.

The Earth Creator was gone. The Water Creator had taken her place. The woman gripped Senna’s hand. “You’ve spent time with the Second Sister, Water,” she sang. “But there is much you’ve never witnessed.”

They rode underwater rivers and found lakes within the sea. Senna saw fish no bigger than her fingernail that pulsed with a rainbow of colors. She swam in turquoise oceans with dolphins and sang with the whales in water so dark it was green black. She explored reefs with fish that wore color like flowers trying to attract bees. She crossed vast oceanic deserts where nothing lived for leagues in every direction.

And then a wave carried her forward and set her in a land of verdant pine forests. Their music was rich with deep, chaotic brass. It was also more complex than any of the other melodies she’d heard. An undercurrent of life pulsed through the music.

“And last, you meet the Third Sister, Plants.” A woman dropped down from a high branch, bits of moss clinging to her red hair. “You feel how full it is?”

Senna nodded. The woman took her hand, and suddenly they were on a sparse, rocky plateau. Gray-leaved olive trees grew in the thin soil. The music here was steadier, but more sparse—like the plants themselves.

The Creator watched Senna silently. When she seemed satisfied, she took her hand again and brought her to a vast continent of death—Tarten. Senna crouched and held a hand over the earth. She pulled back as if stung, a hiss passing through her teeth.

“You feel the difference between this and the desert?”

Senna nodded. The desert song was muted but healthy. This, though…

“Sometimes it’s a raw, stinging pain. Others, a deep, throbbing pulse that shoots out like a wind-whipped ember.” She crouched next to Senna, her hair now the color of baby grass. “But if you listen, you can hear the Four Sisters’ song.”

Senna waited and listened a long time. Finally, she reached out and took hold of a flaking tree. She felt it more than heard it—a faint buzz of life deep within the roots. Her voice joined the Creator’s.

The two called in a storm, dampening the soil before adding their voices to the dying song of the plants. The music of earth, wind, water, and plants swirled all around her.

And she directed it, adding her voice to the mix until a symphony arose, coaxing the music of the plants back to life. Stalks went from a dead brown to a bright green. Tentative leaves uncurled and broadened. Seeds soaked in the water and forced roots into the rich soil. Flowers bloomed, their thin, sweet fragrance filling the air.

Senna listened beyond the music for any sound of life beyond their voices. There was nothing. No hum of insects or cry of animals. Exhausted, she sagged against a tree.

Then she realized the Plant Creator was gone. In her place, the blonde Creator was back. “Now you understand. Our power—the music of the Four Sisters’—is everywhere. Always. Keepers bend the songs of the world to keep it.”