Kyren recognized enough of Aiko’s writing to know she had probably written part of it.
Arkin’s additions were usually larger and considerably uglier.
He looked toward the house again.
Tonight they were supposed to pack.
Apparently Arkin’s understanding of packing involved leaving first.
Kyren folded the note.
“Idiots.” The dog finished eating.
“You didn’t see me.” Its tail moved.
“Good.” Kyren ran.
Delasai changed as he approached the Green Path.
The settlement noise weakened first.
Voices disappeared behind trunks.
Then came the familiar evening sounds of the forest: insects, distant wings, leaves stirring under animals too small to see.
The Green Path received its name from the luminous moss that grew along both sides, producing a soft emerald line through the darkness.
Children were permitted near its entrance during daylight.
Beyond a certain marker, they were not.
Kyren had crossed that marker enough times that the prohibition had become mostly theoretical.
He slowed.
Music drifted between the trees.
Kyren stopped.
The melody was unfamiliar.
Not a lute.
Not flutes.
Something with deeper notes arranged too cleanly to come from wind or branches.
He followed the sound.
Near the entrance to the path stood an enormous tree whose roots formed a natural platform.
On it sat a female figure playing an instrument Kyren had only seen in preserved memories.
A piano.
He had no idea how one had reached Delasai.
Black wood reflected the green light of the moss.
The figure sat with her back partly turned toward him.
Long hair fell across a pale dress.
Her fingers moved over the keys without hesitation.
Then she began to sing.
“Two girls, two faces, beautiful creatures of darkness…” Kyren stepped closer.
Her voice was delicate.
Almost too delicate for the forest.
“…come and wake us when the subconscious rises…” Another step.
“…we end it all.” The final note lingered.
The figure stopped playing.
Kyren realized he had been holding his breath.
Her head turned.
She smiled.
“You’ve been listening for quite some time.” Kyren looked behind himself.
Empty path.
“Not really.” “Long enough.” She turned on the bench.
Beautiful was the first word his mind offered.
Then wrong.
He did not know why.
Her face was symmetrical without seeming artificial.
Her eyes caught the green light in a way that made their color difficult to determine.
Nothing about her appeared threatening.
That itself felt suspicious.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Kyren.” “Kyren.” She repeated it as if testing the sound.
“I’m Lurline.” Kyren looked at the piano.
“How did you get that here?” “Do you like it?” “That wasn’t the question.” Lurline smiled.
“You’re cautious.” “Elves keep telling me I should be.” “Do you always listen?” “Almost never.” “Then perhaps there’s hope for you.” She shifted sideways on the bench.
“Do you want to play?” Kyren looked toward the Green Path.
No Arkin.
No Aiko.
“I’m waiting for someone.” “They’ll find you.” “You don’t know who I’m waiting for.” “No.” Her fingers touched the keys again.
“But children who receive secret notes in the evening are rarely waiting for adults.” Kyren’s hand moved toward his pocket.
Lurline played a short melody.
“Sit.” The word was gentle.
Kyren stepped forward.
He knew he should not.
That realization remained perfectly clear inside his mind.
Yet it seemed increasingly unimportant.
The music returned.
Each note made the next step easier.
“Can you play?” she asked.
“A little lute.” “That’s not what I asked.” “No.” “Then I’ll teach you.” Kyren approached the piano.
Lurline reached for his wrist.
Her hand was cold.
The same kind of cold he remembered from the infant body he had once been, though he possessed no conscious memory of the coffin itself.
Something inside him recoiled anyway.
“Sit here.” There was little room on the bench.
Lurline drew him closer until he sat partly against her.
“Hands.” Kyren placed them above the keys.
“Relax your fingers.” He pressed one.
A note sounded.
Lurline laughed quietly.
“Not as hard.” Kyren tried again.
Better.
Minutes passed.
Or perhaps much longer.
Time became strange around the music.
Lurline showed him short sequences.
Kyren repeated them badly, then less badly.
At some point he forgot Arkin.
Forgot Aiko.
Forgot the argument at home.
The Green Path became nothing but a halo of soft light beyond the piano.
“You’re learning quickly,” Lurline whispered.
Kyren blinked.
His eyelids felt heavy.
“Am I?” “Very.” Her voice seemed farther away.
Kyren pressed another key.
Missed.
Lurline’s arms rested around him.
“Tired?” “No.” “Your body disagrees.” Kyren tried to sit straighter.
The forest blurred at the edges.
“What did you…” He could not finish.
Lurline’s hand moved through his hair.
“Sleep.” Kyren’s head lowered.
Somewhere far away, a branch snapped.
He did not react.
Lurline smiled.
Behind her back, something pushed against the fabric of her dress.
Once.
Twice.
The skin along her shoulder blades split without blood.
A jointed black limb unfolded from inside her body.
Then another.
The piano continued playing although her hands had left the keys.
Kyren’s eyes closed.
Lurline’s jaw widened.
Too far.
Bone rearranged beneath skin.
Her mouth stretched toward her ears.
Teeth multiplied behind her lips.
Black chitin crawled down her neck.
Six more legs unfolded.
Her lower body ruptured outward into the swollen abdomen of a spider.
The beautiful figure remained only from the chest upward, and even that illusion was failing.