her.
He nimbly stripped off his clothes, and washed up using the basin of water and soap left for him. After a quick scrub, he toweled off. Then pulled on the black trousers and white shirt Teya had left him. The soft clothing fit him surprisingly well. Once he’d slipped on his boots, he picked up the black jacket.
The design was different from anything he’d ever seen before, with a high collar at the neck and buttoning up the front. Longer than what he normally wore, it hit him just above the knees. The sleeves were the perfect length for his long arms, surprising him with how well everything fit.
He supposed these clothes were some of the remnants left behind when the Kalorians fled. Even though they weren’t his, he felt comfortable in them, and more self-assured. He stood a little taller and more confident about his participation. He smiled, knowing that even if he couldn’t keep up with the singing, at least he looked good.
Twilight turned to darkness and Bran followed Leona’s soft lights back to the meadow. Tonight the woods were hushed and seemed to hold an air of wistful expectancy. Teya and Leona softly conversed beside the tree, but broke apart when Bran approached. He smiled at Teya’s quick intake of breath, and Leona’s appreciative nod. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“It is a simple ceremony,” Leona said. “If you can let the music be your guide, you will lose yourself in the song, and the notes will follow. Just open your heart. Are you ready?”
Bran nodded, even though he knew he was woefully unprepared for this moment, but in an odd way, he also looked forward to it. The last time he’d heard Teya sing was still etched in his memory as one of the most extraordinary moments in his life, and his heart yearned to hear that sweet voice again.
Leona directed them to the other side of the tree. Here, a white stone pedestal rose from the ground with a large bowl balanced on top. Clear water filled the white bowl, so still that he could see his reflection inside.
They took their positions around the bowl and Leona spoke. “Join hands.”
Teya smiled encouragingly when she took his hand, and he couldn’t help smiling in return. Leona began a simple tune, with her voice light as the wind. Soon, Teya joined her, turning the simple melody into harmony so beautiful that chills ran down his spine. As their voices rose and fell, the notes seemed to twine around him, lifting him to a dreamlike state.
Yet in this state, he felt more real and alive than he’d ever felt in his life. A fresh breeze caressed his skin, filling his nostrils with the scent of new cut grass and spring rain. He breathed deeply and his chest swelled, buoyed by the strength in the air. The grove began to thrum with a pulse of its own, and every leaf and blade of grass shimmered to the beat of newfound life.
Without thought, he began to sing, and his voice found a place in the song that anchored the melody, holding the ethereal notes firmly to the earth. All at once, the water began to rise from the bowl in a fine mist. It swirled in a never-ending funnel higher and higher above the meadow. Soon a cloudy haze overshadowed the entire grove. It hung suspended by a pure sweet note from Teya that held every living thing in thrall. As the tension mounted, Bran could not fathom how she could hold the note so long.
Then Leona’s voice faded out and Bran was caught up in an intricate harmonic dance with Teya. His added strength changed the tempo and mingled with hers in a dance of creation. Soon they merged in an intimate caress. The rhythm intensified, leaving him bare and defenseless. In the magic of the moment he lost himself in this celebration of life itself.
The music trailed out to one last clear note from Teya. Then it ended. The mist hanging above them coalesced and fell to the earth as dewdrops from heaven. Each drop echoed the music like a tinkling chime and
He nimbly stripped off his clothes, and washed up using the basin of water and soap left for him. After a quick scrub, he toweled off. Then pulled on the black trousers and white shirt Teya had left him. The soft clothing fit him surprisingly well. Once he’d slipped on his boots, he picked up the black jacket.
The design was different from anything he’d ever seen before, with a high collar at the neck and buttoning up the front. Longer than what he normally wore, it hit him just above the knees. The sleeves were the perfect length for his long arms, surprising him with how well everything fit.
He supposed these clothes were some of the remnants left behind when the Kalorians fled. Even though they weren’t his, he felt comfortable in them, and more self-assured. He stood a little taller and more confident about his participation. He smiled, knowing that even if he couldn’t keep up with the singing, at least he looked good.
Twilight turned to darkness and Bran followed Leona’s soft lights back to the meadow. Tonight the woods were hushed and seemed to hold an air of wistful expectancy. Teya and Leona softly conversed beside the tree, but broke apart when Bran approached. He smiled at Teya’s quick intake of breath, and Leona’s appreciative nod. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“It is a simple ceremony,” Leona said. “If you can let the music be your guide, you will lose yourself in the song, and the notes will follow. Just open your heart. Are you ready?”
Bran nodded, even though he knew he was woefully unprepared for this moment, but in an odd way, he also looked forward to it. The last time he’d heard Teya sing was still etched in his memory as one of the most extraordinary moments in his life, and his heart yearned to hear that sweet voice again.
Leona directed them to the other side of the tree. Here, a white stone pedestal rose from the ground with a large bowl balanced on top. Clear water filled the white bowl, so still that he could see his reflection inside.
They took their positions around the bowl and Leona spoke. “Join hands.”
Teya smiled encouragingly when she took his hand, and he couldn’t help smiling in return. Leona began a simple tune, with her voice light as the wind. Soon, Teya joined her, turning the simple melody into harmony so beautiful that chills ran down his spine. As their voices rose and fell, the notes seemed to twine around him, lifting him to a dreamlike state.
Yet in this state, he felt more real and alive than he’d ever felt in his life. A fresh breeze caressed his skin, filling his nostrils with the scent of new cut grass and spring rain. He breathed deeply and his chest swelled, buoyed by the strength in the air. The grove began to thrum with a pulse of its own, and every leaf and blade of grass shimmered to the beat of newfound life.
Without thought, he began to sing, and his voice found a place in the song that anchored the melody, holding the ethereal notes firmly to the earth. All at once, the water began to rise from the bowl in a fine mist. It swirled in a never-ending funnel higher and higher above the meadow. Soon a cloudy haze overshadowed the entire grove. It hung suspended by a pure sweet note from Teya that held every living thing in thrall. As the tension mounted, Bran could not fathom how she could hold the note so long.
Then Leona’s voice faded out and Bran was caught up in an intricate harmonic dance with Teya. His added strength changed the tempo and mingled with hers in a dance of creation. Soon they merged in an intimate caress. The rhythm intensified, leaving him bare and defenseless. In the magic of the moment he lost himself in this celebration of life itself.
The music trailed out to one last clear note from Teya. Then it ended. The mist hanging above them coalesced and fell to the earth as dewdrops from heaven. Each drop echoed the music like a tinkling chime and
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