Songbird (Pt. Three)
A lone siren realizes her echo isn't her own. It's that of Echo, invisible and only able to repeat the words of others. They find a way to grow close anyway... and to break some curses.
Part One
Part Two
---------------------
“The rain’s too strong,” Ligeia says, squinting at the dreary drizzle outside. “I don’t think I can fly in that.”
“We can wait,” Echo says. “All we need is something to do.”
Ligeia chuckles. “When I find a library, I’ll let you know.”
“You like to read?”
She sinks back into her nest, pulling her wings close. “I did. My mother had scroll after scroll of poetry. All the songs and verses you could ever want,” she sighs.
“Your mother sounds like a lovely person.”
“She was. But we have no scrolls here. Though… I do remember them. Maybe…” Ligeia pauses, realizing what she’s about to propose. I haven’t done that in so long, she thinks. Not since with her.
But Echo is right there, patient and soft. She smells like the rain outside, but sweeter — with a hint of jasmine.
“…we could take turns telling stories?” Ligeia suggests.
“I don’t know many stories, though.” Echo gusts past her to rustle in the corner, scooping up discarded walnut shells. “We should use these for something. A game?”
“Why don’t I supply the stories, and you supply the contest?”
The wind grows lighter and looser. “It’s a date,” Echo teases.
***********
“See, this is why you’re my favorite.” Mistress giggles behind her hand. “Please, could you sing more to me tonight?” Her eyes shine a soft green, her skin aglow in the violet light of dusk. She smells of lavender and jasmine.
“I would love to.”
Mistress leans close with a whisper, meant for only the two of them: “It’s a date, then.”
*************
A flush rises to Ligeia’s cheeks. Giving her head a brisk shake, she hops out of her nest and stumbles out of Echo’s way.
“Ready,” Echo taps out. “It isn’t much, but it’s a start. We compete to see who’ll throw these shells the farthest.”
“Alright.” Ligeia clears her throat. With a faint tremble to her voice, she begins.
She doesn’t sing. But she chants, weaving a tale in rhyme about a hero who fell for Love himself. As she speaks, the words returning to her with practiced ease, she tosses the shells.
“You’re a very good storyteller,” Echo says when she finishes.
Ligeia manages to fling her pebble onto the grass. She smiles, her stomach fluttering. “I think you might be trying to distract me so I don’t get so many points.”
“…maybe.”
She snorts, and so does Echo, pitching up the sound into a light laugh. “But thank you,” Ligeia says. “I’m glad to hear I still have some of my skills.”
“You must’ve been very popular.”
Ligeia’s smile fades a little. “Only with one person.”
“Who were they?”
“Uh.” Why do I feel like this? It happened so long ago. It’s not like Echo is your — no. No. Just stay quiet. Don’t say—
“I’m sorry,” Echo says, cutting into her thoughts. “I shouldn’t—”
“It’s fine! I just… I haven’t thought about her in a while.” Ligeia draws in a deep breath, rolling the shell around in her talons. The words begin to push their way to the surface. “We grew up together, her and I and my sisters. We all kept her company.”
“What sorts of things did you do?”
“We picked flowers, we sang, and we told stories.”
“That sounds fun,” Echo says, a wistful note entering her voice.
“Yes.” The shell crackles in her grip. “She and I were the closest, though. She liked my stories the best, and she spent the most time with me. We were friends.”
“You seem to have cared about her very much.”
**************
“She’s married.”
The Lady stands before them, Ligeia and her sisters kneeling at her feet. Her voice sounds brittle, the sweetness gone and replaced by something thornier. “The Underworld took her, and my brother — he approved of it. I couldn’t do anything. Nobody did anything.”
The grass around them wilts from green to yellow.
“You didn’t do anything,” the Lady snarls.
Ligeia’s head snaps up, tears shining in her eyes. “What could we have done?”
“Anything other than standing there.” The Lady’s hands curl into fists. “Anything other than letting my daughter be taken away to such a cruel fate.”
“My Lady, please—”
“She’s married to that man. My only daughter is gone for several months of the year!”
“My Lady—”
“Did you not care?”
Ligeia jumps to her feet. “I love her! You think I don’t grieve at her marriage?”
Silence falls over the glade. Her sisters stare at her. The Lady stares at her. The Lady’s eyes glow gold like wheat in the sun, bloodied by a red dawn. “And what good was your love?”
*************
Ligeia finds herself blinking back tears. “I wish I loved her enough to save her.”
There’s a beat of hesitation, the air turning over itself. Then, Echo flutters down and close to Ligeia, like a pair of arms.
This time, emotion swells in her chest. She can’t choke it back. Her face crumples. She draws in a ragged breath and finds the air close and cool. Beyond the hope of return, she leans into the touch and sobs, heaving her shoulders.
The sound is ugly. It’s the sound of a grieving woman. But as it pours out of her, the thorns catching in her throat, she feels her chest loosen. She feels Echo’s touch grow firmer and even closer to her, becoming a true embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispers later, her ability to speak with words recovered. “I needed that.”
“You did,” Echo says. She feels so gentle, so kind and warm. “You deserve to grieve what you lose. This person — she sounds like she meant a great deal to you.”
“She was my first love,” Ligeia admits, swishing her tail feathers.
“And you loved her enough. That wasn’t why you lost her,” Echo says, pressing closer. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“She deserved better, though. Both her and her mother.”
“So did you.”
Ligeia blinks, then manages a small nod. “I… you’re right. We all did.”
2 notes
·
View notes