Soul Song ~ Book One

Chapter Two

One week, to the day, prediction came true. The dirty, blonde haired girl, who had unwittingly been a barrier to Plague Itself, stood watching her mother as she struggled through the final stages of death. Healers crowded around the large bed that had once been occupied by several people, in a happier time. All the household blankets were packed around the poor, writhing creature. As most of them had belonged to children, it was especially difficult to keep them around her when she sporadically lurched up with wordless screams of agony.

Songs sang through the afternoon air. Weaving, caressing, trying to heal. The girl watched as the Magiks flowed from the Healers into her mother. A part of her echoed the sentiments of the songs, moving her to empathy, and yet, detaching her from the pain. While anger was within her, anger at the Healers for failing her mother, at her mother for failing her, at her family for dying before her and leaving her, wishing she had died with them; something quiet whispered to her to be at peace. She didn't question it. It had always been there. Her parents had always marveled at her ability to make her siblings feel better when they had bumps and bruises from playing. She wasn't squeamish about the body and always knew what to do to make things better. Her mother used to call her a 'little healer.' Watching the true Healers working now, she didn't think she wanted to be one of them. For all their Magiks, they seemed so powerless.

"Dania..." Her mother whispered her name as she held out a clammy hand to her, beckoning her to come to her. She couldn't bear to clasp that hand, knowing it would be lacking the warmth it normally held. The wall bumped into Dania, who was unaware she had moved towards it. Unmet, the hand fell as her mother closed her tired eyes and turned her head away.

A wail like a tortured animal ripped from her mother's throat, dying off as convulsions began. The Healers held her hands to keep her from harming herself, as they lifted her to her side. Ragged breaths forced their way in and out, pushing blood soaked spittle out of her swollen lips.

Even with the quiet voice inside, Dania's sanity tiptoed around her mind on the fine edge of the sword of reason, threatening to fall either direction. She wondered if she would see the other side of this nightmare, or if she would be like so many others and lose her senses completely. Some part of her wished they would flee so she couldn't feel or see or hear this mind-numbing catastrophe.

As the convulsions worsened, her mother's eyes rolled up into her head, giving her the look of being possessed by a demon. Horror pulled at Dania's heart, willing her to run, hide, and never look back. After long moments, the convulsions died down and the kind, soft, brown eyes were replaced with the cloudy, dull eyes of a Shade. The unnatural watery pools jabbed fear into Dania's heart.

"Daniaaaa..." The hoarse whisper that escaped the parched lips broke off, gurgling, her throat filling with the death dealing fluids. Wracking coughs prevented any further speech, until it died down to a final sigh.

Darkness crowded Dania's sight. There was no longer anyone or anything in the room. Just the body of her mother lying there, the last of the breath expelled. If there was sound, Dania couldn't hear it past her heart pumping blood through her ears. Something vital snapped in her head. All the fear, all the horror was just gone. She pushed against the wall that had been lending her support and took the three steps to her mother's side.

Looking down at her mother, she marveled at the color of her skin. She had never seen that kind of ashen gray with a sickly yellow undertone before, and didn't know it was possible in a human. The hairs on her arm prickled. A low hum, that only she could hear, began to course through her. Reaching out her small hand, she touched her mother's clammy one. What little heat had previously resided in this hand was quickly fading. She released the hand and trailed her fingertips just above her mother's arm, not quite touching it. A stirring inside her spoke to her. It told her death lives here, no life force remains. There is nothing to be done.