Castle of Silence by Black Sword

Author's note: I usually don't have these, but this section specifically requires it. The song at the end is Yuki Kajiura's Hepatica (KOS-MOS), which is written in the great composer's unique language. It's a rather mournful song that fits the circumstances, I feel. It's been slightly modified to fit. There is a cover version specifically for this section, sung by an original soprano, with accompanying background art. The song is available for listening on Youtube.

Her eyes told her this was all a familiar sight. Snow lay heavily on the roofs of dozens of buildings below. Lights shone out of windows, sure to be home to family scenes, of fathers kissing their children after a hard day, of mothers feeding their families as they all gathered in the simple joy of being together.

You already know all their names by heart? Ah, my treasure, I'm so proud of you!

A sob choked her as she looked up, beyond the iconic towers of the Castle of Silence. Her heart felt like it needed just a feather of weight more to be crushed into pieces, never to be whole again.

Hmm? Why was it built like this? Well, my treasure, even I have whims sometimes.

Snow-topped mountains arrogantly challenged the night for domination of the landscape. The sky ignored the insignificant taunt and serenely continued onward, a black velvet cloth for countless glittering gems that offered neither comfort nor warmth.

Night owns a special mystique, my treasure. Whether for magic or for love, night is the time for it.

Memories kept attacking her mind. A fresh river of tears escaped her eyes as she tried not to see anything, tried not to think of anything. A sound, half-whimper, half-wail, tried to claw itself out of her throat as the stream of thoughts continued to march through her mind.

Ladali, mother of the Laya Lalita, was recognized as the avatar of the Great Goddess for accomplishing a miracle. When Ladali died giving birth to Lalita, her people, the Espers who followed Lutz, had accepted that the divine energy had passed from Ladali to her daughter. From mother to daughter, from sister to sister, the manifestation of divinity followed the female line and connected them to the greater universe.

Each girl-child was given two names at birth. The first was the public name, the one by which she was known by others. The second was the true name, the secret name that protected all of their secrets. Every time a Laya died, she returned to her true name and her successor took her place. Each heiress abandoned her true name and assumed the burden until their own demise. It was an orderly, eternal procession, symbolized by the tikal, the blood red gem that only the Laya and her heiress wore, and the mystic bow that Lutz himself had long ago given them.

Sahana, you know full well that only the Laya is supposed to know your true name. I will forgive you for telling Alair, as I have impressed upon her the importance of her silence, but I will punish you severely the next time you break this trust. Am I understood?

She gasped for air as desperately tried to breathe through her sobs. Her father, Latis Theran, had died while she was in the womb. Her mother, Amika, had died giving birth. Her twin, never named, had been the cause of death and joined their mother in the grave. She had only had her big sister, who had given her all the love and safety in the world.

Laya had been everything to her. Laya had raised her, loved her as mother and sister, and taught her everything she knew. She had aspired to be her big sister, with her prodigious mastery of magic, her gift for learning almost at a glance. Her big sister had been her ideal, but no matter how hard she tried, it was simply impossible to equal Laya. Even without her gifts, Laya's will had been unmatchable; her diminutive big sister had nearly broken the massive Lune in half more than once because the brute had hurt Sahana's feelings.

Except now she was Laya. There was no one to call her "my treasure," no one to protect her, to care for her, to teach her, to love her. There was no one to brush her long hair, to encourage her dreams or dispel her fears, to make her feel cherished and unique. There was not even Sahana. There was just an incredibly poor substitute for what a Laya should be. She was just an imitation, a knock off of a truly great woman.

Please, my treasure, won't you sing for me?

Laya had always enjoyed hearing her sing. Her voice had the sole force able to soothe her sister's troubled spirit. Only she had ever had the power to console the pain brought by visions of the future. Her songs were the only thing that belonged to her alone and were no part of the Laya's burden.

She touched the pendant around her neck. If only for a little while, there would be no Laya. Sahana would sing for Kalika. Blinded by tears, she reached out for the rail and pulled herself to her feet. There was a song of mourning her sister had taught her, in a language whose words they did not understand, that had been ancient when Lutz himself had been born...

"Morche ta...mi iya...mitanu atore..."

"Iiseta ti ita... menseri amore..."

"Idia dieta...sibiya tore... imense idito adio..."

"Acorteha adio detta... imense ni... adito dita... Kalika..."

"Imiadetta... sibiya tore... imense idito adio..."

"Abortea... adio detta... imense ni... adito dita... Kalika..."

"Kalika..."

Something sounded behind her. Startled, she whirled toward the doorway. Nial was there, his face entranced. His expression quickly changed to that "uncomfortable male confronted with crying female" look men got. Before she could don her sister's mask and hide, he opened his arms, a mute offer of comfort. For just a moment, her vision blurred and she remembered how Laya had done the same for her so many times. She couldn't help it; she walked up to him and buried her face in his warm chest as fresh tears poured out of her eyes. She whispered, "Kalika..."

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