“Since you are the first student at Nightingale High, you will get to pick from any of the twelve rooms on the second floor, miss Valentine.” The young woman who led me up the stairs said with a smile.
She was tall, with a swimmer's body and long, jet black hair. She was dressed in a Norse style pearl white tunic and full length skirt, with a very light, pale blue corset embroidered with a cascading waterfall. She had introduced herself as Isabel Grace, the nurse of Nightingale High.
I found the fact that my father had them name the school after me unsettling, not to mention embarrassing.
We reached the second floor and stepped out of the spiral staircase, and I glanced up as it continued upwards. Isabel smiled when she caught my eye, and nodded to the staircase. “It continues up to the third floor, which is a labyrinth someone thought would make a good attic. I wouldn't suggest going up there unless you have a good sense of direction.” She turned away from the staircase and waved at the square area surrounding the staircase.
There was an opening at each corner of the square, which was tilted slightly sideways so that each hall aligned with a direction on the compass. Though you couldn't see very far down any of the hallways, as each twisted away in an odd pattern.
“Each of these halls leads to the outer ring, and most of the rooms are along the outer wall. Though there are four center rooms that enclose the staircase, making the square we are in.” Isabel tapped one of the walls and winked at me. “The rooms are made in all kinds of shapes and sizes, from the balcony room at the southern edge to one of the northern rooms that is mostly a walk-in closet. There are twelve students on the roster, so each of you will get your own room.”
I nodded, shifting my suitcase from my right hand to my left. “Thank you for taking the time to show me around, miss Grace.” I attempted to smile as she laughed.
“Oh, just Isabel will do, miss Valentine. I really am too young for a title, no matter what Marion insists.” Isabel sighed, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. “Though sometimes titles are inescapable... But this is a vacation! I should be able to leave titles at home. So how about this; you can call me Isabel, and I'll call you whatever you'd like. Because seriously, miss Grace and miss Valentine makes both of us sound old. And neither of us are at all that old.” Her voice flowed like a river, ageless and soothing.
I had already pinned Isabel Grace as a water elemental from the texture of her voice, and had gleaned from the memories riding her words that she was a leader among her people, despite her youth.
But I would wait until she told me about her life, if she ever told me.
I couldn't stop myself from learning about people through their voice, but I could try to ignore what I learned. I couldn't stop the Siren within, but I could keep it caged.
I tried to smile again, nodding once. “Okay... Isabel. You can call me Gale.”
I had decided that I wouldn't introduce myself as Nightingale if I could help it. Why had they named the school Nightingale High? Why not Richard High, or Siren High? My mother had said that this was the Siren Estate.
Isabel smiled again as she returned to the stairs. “Gale it is. If you need someone to talk to, fill free to come visit the infirmary.” Her voice gave me a detailed image of the infirmary, and the small room connected to it where Isabel would call home.
I let my smile drop as soon as her black-haired head disappeared down the spiral staircase. Shifting my suitcase back to my right hand, I picked a direction and started walking.
The western hall leading away from the stairs had some interesting carvings on the wall. I followed the carving of a beautiful ship on its journey along the wall, then frowned when the hall opened out to melt into what had to be the outer ring. There weren't very many windows on the second floor, and apparently no one had hired an electrician to give this place artificial lighting. But I found the lamplight fitting, the flickering flames causing the carvings to take on their own life I hadn't noticed in the hall.
I looked for the carving of the ship, and found that it had been joined by some half-human, half-bird carvings. I watched as the Sirens circled the ship, and led it towards a group of jagged rocks.
The final carving of the ship was wrecked on the rocks, half-sunk, with the Sirens perched on the edge of the crows-nest.
I knew what the scene was, and how that could easily be me. Yes, the Sirens depicted in the carving had purposefully led the ship to the rocks, but they had sang.
They hadn't held themselves back, placed others over their need to sing. They hadn't broken their Song, and forced it to drown itself in agony, pleading to be released, to spread its wings and fly.
Even now as I thought of it, my Song bubbled to my throat, painfully fighting against me for release. I clenched my teeth, fighting the Song and my heart. I ran down the the outer ring back to way I had come, my eyes starting to tear as the Song fought its way to my tongue, its sweetness filling my mouth.
I couldn't swallow it down, not after having caged it for so long.
A large carving of a bird, wings only slightly opened and it's beak open in song.
Carved onto a door, which would be a barrier between the rest of the school and my Song.
I barely noticed the feather pattern on the doorknob before my hand closed around it and turned. The door opened easily, and I ran into the room. I slammed the door shut and took a few steps into the now completely dark room, before collapsing to the floor.
My back arched, my head lifted upwards as the Song burst free on my lips.
The Song was of the victory that was freedom, and of the sorrow of imprisonment. It sang of darkness, and the frozen silence of misery. The numbness that filled the mind, until anger burned away the nothingness. The Song burned on my lips, crying its defiance and promising an ecstasy that only it could bring. It whispered of secrets that I didn't want to know, that I normally wouldn't want to know. But at the moment, I longed for them.
The Song was like a drug. Like the finest wine, the most valued and delicious fruit ever tasted. Once offered as a taste, twice cultivated the desire, and at thrice it becomes the lifeblood. I needed the Song more then oxygen, more then food and drink. I had been starving myself, and now basked within a feast of wordless melody.
I couldn't close my mouth, and shut out the Song.
And I didn't even want to.
It was what sustained me.
Without the Song, everything was a frozen darkness, with nothing but a slow, crippling, killing Silence. My mother was able to fight the Silence, but I couldn't.
I was too weak.
The Silence was too much for me.
And the Song too tempting to resist.
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