Of Phoenix Tears and Demon Blood

32 - Explore (2/2)

I could barely open the door without bumping into someone. True to Isla's word, the streets were packed with people. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder. The lanterns could barely light the streets and would only grow darker as the blue-gray sky faded into black. I shoved past people. "Ella!" I shouted. My eyes skimmed over the crowd. I saw her dark, braided hair further down the street and followed after her.

I dodged jabbing elbows. Someone bumped into me and I stumbled, but quickly regained my balance. I shouted again, but heard no response. What was she thinking? I lamented.

A drum banged and the crowd froze. It was perfectly silent as they hummed with anticipation, waiting for what would come next. I took this as an opportunity to hurry through the crowd in the direction Ella had vanished. An old woman scowled at me, disapproval dripping off of her. "Demon scum," she hissed. She tapped both of her shoulders before crossing her arms over her forehead, warding off evil. I rolled my eyes and pushed past her, it wasn't the first time that had happened and it wouldn't be the last.

With an elegant flourish, the drums began to beat, pounding a steady rhythm. Freed, the people began to dance – a twisting entity of limbs in all the darkness. They began to sing, voices following one another, cascading and rippling through the air. Their language was unfamiliar, but I had no doubt it was what they spoke before the Unification and spread of common. Despite the language barrier, I knew what they were singing about – the same ceremony happened each year in Xufra, on the first day of winter. Winter was the season our world was closest to the unknown, and so death lingered behind only the thinnest of veils. While death claimed the most in winter, that proximity allowed us to connect with those who had been lost.

The drums beat louder and faster, and the motions of the dancing reflected this. The drums were the heartbeat of the baby, as told by the song. He rested within his mother, coming into being.

The drums stopped and the crowd halted. I stumbled, but was quickly forced upright. Someone glared at me and I murmured an apology. Morstiv was quiet, the silence only disrupted by the gentle rustling of the crowd.

Flutes broke the silence, their sound gliding through the air on gilded air. They were lighter and sharper than the Xufran flutes I knew, but they were flutes, nonetheless. The flutes told of a mother's love for her unborn child. And the drums began again, throbbing through the crowd. This was the first heartbeat of the child, now born, bare and vulnerable to the world, yet pulsing with potential. The singing began, weaving the story of his childhood.

I called out for Ella, but my voice failed to even reach my own ears – deafened by the rush of the music and the song. The crowd danced together, approached the center of the town, and I let them guide me there. Despair nibbled at me, forcing me to question if my search was futile. But I couldn't leave Ella out here alone. My hand trembled and I cursed.

My heart beat in sync with the drums, with the heartbeat of the child as they played with a wooden sword, unaware of their destiny as a warrior. Between the swarming people, I could see a clearing up ahead – the center of the village. I forced my way towards it, knowing that I would have a better view of the crowd, and Ella, if I could reach it.

The song changed, growing and winding forward as it told of the child, now a warrior, grabbing his sword and journeying off to the battlefield. Abruptly, the tempo changed as the warrior of the song was ambushed. The people, once slowly dancing, sprang into action. Their voices rang higher, each word rolling into the next, harsh yet indistinct.

Someone shoved me, their elbow jabbing into my stomach. I hissed in pain and recoiled, but they were indistinguishable amongst the churning crowd. With a burst of energy, I pushed myself forward till I stood at the edge of the crowd that circled the town's center.