Then he smiled at her, and her sadness shattered in a thousand pieces. She leaned toward him and he gathered her in his arms. “Lilette.”
She closed her eyes, reveling in the sound of her name on his lips. Then a sob caught in her throat. “I wanted so badly to save them.”
He tipped her head back and kissed her gently. “You did.” His hand dropped down to take hers. Their fingers laced together. “Your sister, father, mother, even Fa—they’re all waiting for you.”
She turned toward the music with him by her side. And she knew that death was not the end. Only another realm—beautiful and perfect. Someday those she left behind would find her here.
***
Lellan had been right about the islands of Harshen. They remembered Lilette in their songs. With each passing decade, she became more powerful, more lovely. The actions of those around her were attributed to Lilette—from Jolin’s making of the song pendant, to her creation of the veil.
Among the keepers of Grove City, Lilette was spoken of with a hiss, for she was seen as the reason for the dissonance brewing around them. Then her name was blotted from the records, her song unwoven from the world. She was purposely forgotten. Merlay and the others were not. Records were changed to make it look as if they survived, as if the horrors they inflicted never happened. To this day, the witches refuse to take blame for those atrocities.
Over the long centuries, wars were fought. Keepers were taken captive and used for their powers. Thousands died. The keepers of Grove City broke into factions. The ramparts of Grove City crumbled. The thorns and trees burned.
Over time, the witches fell from the most powerful and revered entity on earth to the most hated and feared. Witches were no longer safe, for the world only wished to use them or kill them. Some of Jolin’s notes must have survived—probably protected by Bethel—for after Grove City was overrun and destroyed, Haven was moved to a newly formed country called Nefalie.
Creators are patient, but so much time had passed that Lilette began to doubt anyone could ever reunite the witches and return them to their former splendor. Unable to watch everything she’d hoped and worked for disintegrate, she turned away, focusing all her attention on the man who had taught her how to surrender.
But then someone called for her help. Lilette turned back and saw the world on the brink of collapse. Nature was a ruin of droughts, darkness, and floods. All the witches were captured. All but one—a young, untrained girl who had been hidden away by her mother.
A girl who had crossed oceans and fought armies.
Her name was Brusenna.
A Note from Jolin
I cannot guess how long the barrier will hold, so I have taken to ensuring that the people who remain with me are as strong as I can make them. All witches, wastrels or not, are learning the songs. If necessary, we can unite and wield a meager strength. Doranna is training a faction to fight—something that would have never been tolerated in Grove City.
Part of the weakness of our system of government was the total power the Heads held. I have spread that power out—giving equal power to the wastrels, who have formed into orders that serve their element in a different way.
But I knew these two groups would cancel each other out. There had to be a higher power—one who was as accountable to them, as they would be to her. A higher power that could be deposed with the unanimous vote of both these groups. So I invented the office of a listener. Instead of singing and controlling the world, she would listen to what the world and her people needed and act accordingly.
Both groups unanimously voted me into the position. I tried to maneuver myself out of it—I have no head for crowds, and I had already made so many mistakes. But they wouldn’t be dissuaded.
I threw away all my notes and books before I leapt into the sea after Lilette. I could rewrite them, I suppose. Begin the experiments again. But I will not. I will never again be part of creating something that can be twisted in such a way.
I cannot fathom what the Heads have done to Lilette’s name. Some part of me doubts they have made her a villain of unnamable horrors—it would mean admitting that someone was strong enough to shake their perfect world.
No. I suspect they will simply wipe her name from the records. Remove her song from the songs woven throughout the world—at least the ones they can reach.
As for Lilette—I hope that wherever she is, she can forgive me. I wrote her biography for her so people would know the truth, free of adornment or hatred. So that her sacrifice would not be forgotten.
THE END