The Serenader

Chapter 2

Calya's POV
I was born with a gift. Call me ungrateful, but it's a gift that I refuse to use.

I'll backtrack. Like almost all of my family, I'm an Illusionist. Essentially that means I'm an empath - you know, internalizing other people's emotional state and whatnot. I can't explain it well because I don't care much for using it. Your emotions should be solitary, something you choose to share; not something a person across the room can understand without a single word spoken. At least, that's my view of it.

"Dad wanted me to talk to you about this," My older sister Blythe muttered under her breath after I had finished detailing all that aloud. "But I don't see the purpose of it."

We sat in one of the abandoned rooms of the castle. I hadn't expected to have this chat, but Blythe took me by surprise and pulled me away from the liveliness of the rest of the palace.

"It's just," I continued, "Don't you ever wonder what gives us the right to use Illusion, or even have it in the first place?"

Blythe cocked her head, brown curls falling around her face. Her brown eyes were serious. She brushed a lock away from her eye, then replied, "I've never thought about it... it's just the sixth sense. If we're free to see or hear, why shouldn't we be free to use Illusion?"

"I..." I trailed off, unsure of how to respond. I understood what she was trying to say, but it didn't sit well with me.

The following stillness lingered in the air, neither one of us convinced that we were fully correct. Blythe finally broke the silence, saying in that same ponderous tone, "Cal, can I ask you something?"

"Yes," I responded warily.

"You're strong," she said. Immediately, I had an idea where this was going, and I nearly groaned. "Stronger than me, even. Before this ridiculous little strike of yours, some of the things you've picked up from other people never would have crossed my mind. You've helped people. So... why? What's holding you back? What led you to question all this?"

I rested my hand on my forehead, silently wishing I was anywhere but here. Blythe had struck a nerve and asked about something I wasn't fond of sharing.

"Don't be anxious," she said, which made my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I just want to know so I can help."

I closed my eyes, remembering exactly where my reservations about Illusion had stemmed from. Sure, most of it was because I believed emotions should be unique to the individual, but there was more to it than just that.

Without opening my eyes, I said, "I'm afraid of hurting someone."

Blythe waited for me to say more, so reluctantly I continued. "I- I don't know why, but I can change what I feel. I can change the emotions of others."

I opened my eyes, blinking back tears, not at all relieved that I had finally admitted that burden. "And that scares me, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

A pit formed in my stomach. Blythe's eyes were clouded over with confusion, and she was shaking her head just enough for me to be sure she actually was. "Emotional manipulation, you say?" She said slowly. "That... that shouldn't be possible."

"You think I don't know that?" I drew in a shaky breath, remembering it was only a few months ago, the day I understood what I was dealing with. My father was hosting a banquet for my youngest siblings' birthday: Des and Eclipse. Our ballroom was packed with hundreds of people for the celebration of the twins' twelfth birthday. I'm not a fan of crowds to begin with, but when I stepped into the room, something inside me snapped. All at once I knew a piece of everyone in there, a little bit of how each guest felt right then and there.

That wave of emotion started drowning me, but I couldn't claw my way back to the surface without being tackled by more. And I couldn't even make out individual feelings; the tsunami of happy and sad, of angry and calm - it was too much for me. I feigned an illness and fled to my room. I'd stayed there for the rest of the night, grateful to be anywhere but in that crowd. But I knew it wasn't the last I'd feel that. When Eclipse came to see me after the banquet, she said taking even one step inside my room made her feel like she was afraid, like she was in a dangerous situation. That was how I'd felt. But I didn't realize what that meant exactly until after she'd left, so she still has no idea. I couldn't bring myself to tell her, or to tell anyone for that matter. So I taught myself to turn it off.

"Cal," Blythe reached across the table and squeezed my hand, her aura suddenly changed. "We'll work through this. Just because what you have is rare doesn't mean it's unhandleable. I'm glad you told me."

She held her pointer and middle fingers up to my temple with  her free hand, then said, "I want you to hear this."

I didn't understand what she wanted me to listen for until I could hear it - the lullaby.

I had never heard the sweet, soft flute melody that began to play inside my head, but it was beautiful. It was like the song was being performed right next to me, only a thousand times clearer and much more meaningful. After a few bars of a solo, a violin joined in the song, the two instruments playing in perfect harmony. I couldn't figure out why or even how Blythe was sharing the song with me, but it didn't matter. The tune began to soothe my nerves, my heart slowing a bit. I felt the weight of Illusion lifted off my shoulders, if only for a moment.

After a few more moments of the precious music - not nearly long enough - the sad minor tone resolved to a wholesome major chord between the two. In a little slip-up, the violin resonated for a moment longer than the flute at the end of the song, but whoever was playing it quickly dampened the sound. That vague imperfection led me to believe Blythe was sharing a memory with me, but I didn't ever recall her learning any instruments, and I couldn't begin to guess at how she played that song so perfectly in my head.

"What... How?" I asked softly, afraid if I spoke too loud the memory of the song would fade away.

"It's a piece mom wrote," Blythe whispered back, barely loud enough for me to hear. She was smiling, but in the sad, subtle way someone will before they tell you bad news. Her eyes glistened with fresh tears. "Years ago. It always helped me when I needed it."

"How did you do that?" I asked again. She hadn't answered that question.

A grin, a more lighthearted one this time, flickered across her face. All she said was, "An Illusion."

Before I could say anything in response, the door clicked. A young servant unlatched the door from the hall and let himself in.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding out of breath. "But the king has some news about the Region Meeting. He wants to speak with you two and your siblings."

Blythe and I exchanged an alarmed glance. It didn't take an Illusionist to feel the tension in the room as we both thought, A Region Meeting? What happened now?