In which the amount of sense will continue on a steady decline. (previous)
“Succeed like one.” The words kept echoing in Livia’s ears as she climbed tower stairs, spiraling upward. She had gotten used to their seeming endlessness over the past months, to the point where she almost appreciated the arduous ascent as a meditative experience. She repeated Jean’s words to herself again, out loud this time. He hadn’t had her thrown out. He could’ve, but he hadn’t. Livia had trouble deciding if it was because of faith or desperation, neither of which seemed to suit him well, though they’d both motivate her to try harder.
The top of the tower held an organ, its yellowed ivory keys, scratched wood and rusty pipes protected from the rain by a domed roof. A gust of wind blew past the pillars and made the organ softly whistle. Livia sat down in front of it, swept her hand over its many keys. In minor disbelief she had learned to play the thing, she looked over the documents in its music stand. The sheet music detailed a song that had been passed through the earlier generations of the Redgarde family, supposedly to be used in a variety of sacred traditions.
None of that was important to her though. She just needed it as a piece of her puzzle, hopefully the final one. A paper with gibberish and nonsense on it was hiding behind the sheet music. Near its bottom a single sentence was highlighted. “In silence it must be sung.” Because arcane rituals are never complete without their fair share of vague slash impossible conditions. The rowdy townsfolk below could be heard arguing over the surge in produce prices, and in the night there’d be a few depressed drunkards audibly sobbing their way home. Even without all that, the rain itself provided enough monotone drumming that no place in the city would ever be completely silent.
I got one more part in me, and then the story concludes. Y’all getting hype for a deus ex machina yet? (next)