[Psalm]

Words filtered into my swirling mind. "Psalm, do you hear me?"

My heart lifted upon recognition of the voice. Father's big, calloused hand held mine as I laid on a soft surface. Shadow laid curled up next to me, soft fur caressing my arm, and let out a slight whimper as I stirred. There were others here — my grandmother Glendia, my grandfather Obius, and also my younger twin brothers, Tobias and Troy, who I sometimes called 'T trouble twice'. I recognized their breathing patterns and telltale mannerisms. But Mother... I did not sense her presence.

This was my little room and my bed, with the comforting familiar scents and textures.

How did I get here? Vague memories surfaced of Shadow's frantic yips, overwhelming vertigo as I crumpled to the muddy road, and murmurs of a concerned crowd calling my name. Otherslooked upon with narrowed accusing eyes as if I was the wicked witch of somechildren's story. Someone carried me home within strong arms — it was Father, as I recalled a blacksmith's smoky scent. My brothers were there, too. They must have come with Father.

"Psalm?" my father said again.

I groaned as my eyes fluttered open, revealing the early evening light shining through my little window and hazy shadows of those who hovered over me. What had happened to me? Then remembering hit me like a storm wind — the magic, Naamah... Gasping, I leaned up on my elbows, which only induced more vertigo, and I flopped back down.

Strong hands supported me as I sat up. "Easy now, daughter," Father said. "You had quite a spell. Do you know what happened?"

As my eyes gazed upon his blurry form, I found it difficult to form words to answer. "I... I'm not sure..."

"Psalm!" Mother burst into the room, and my brothers grunted as she pushed by them. I stood as she came to my side, grappling me in a tight hug.

"Mother," I wheezed, "I can't breathe." Wavering, I plopped back down on my bed.

"Boys," Mother said, "give us some privacy."

"We wanna know what happened," Tobias protested.

"Right," Troy added. "Pastor Wilson said there was magic. Did you do magic, Psalm?"

"Boys!" Mother implored in a louder voice.

"Come on boys," Glendia sighed. "I'll make you some sweetcakes."

My brothers followed her out. They were easily bribed with food, which our grandmother was happy to provide.

Mother sat down beside me and took up my hand. In the evening light, I could just make out her blurry silhouette. "Psalm, I felt the magic."

I gripped her hand with both of mine. "The magic surrounded me, Mother, but then it..." Recalling the chaos, I sucked in a breath as a queasiness invaded my gut. "Was anyone hurt? Did I--"

"Rest easy, Psalm," Father replied. "No one was hurt. But it was quite a spectacle, I was told." After a tense pause, he continued, "Some are anxious and demand answers."

"Answers we do not have," Mother relented.

"Fools," Grandfather Obius huffed. "Simple minds fear what they do not understand."

I dipped my head as shame darkened my heart. "But I caused this."

"No, Psalm," Mother replied, squeezing my hand. "We do not know what happened, but blame is not yours to take."

Somehow, I knew the truth of Mother's words, but also that I would be blamed, nonetheless. After a moment to collect my emotions, I said, "There is something else. I saw it all, and everything around me, Mother. Not with my eyes, but... I don't know how."

"Hmm," Grandfather said, "such can happen witha sufficiently sensitive oracle, although rarely. It is called aura sense."

"But it shouldn't happen at all!" Father blurted out. "Magic died before Psalm was born."

"Apparently, not completely so," Obius answered. "I felt the magic too."

Grandfather Obius was once Chief Mage to King Reza, long ago when magic existed. But Mother? Was she magic born? My mind spun with questions.

"Mother, were you the Aria of legend? Am I daughter of sacrifice?"

When Mother sucked in a trembling breath and paused, I had my answer. "Who told you that?" she asked in a strained voice.

"She called herself Naamah--"

"Nooo!" Mother wailed. She grabbed my shoulders, squeezing hard enough to be painful. "That can't be... Psalm... Tell me it is a lie. Tell me!"

Bitter guilt squeezed my heart that the mere mention of that name brought so much anguish. "I'm sorry, Mother," I blubbered.

"It can't be..." A sob escaped her lips as she ran out of the room.

"Mother?" I called out, my heart racing.

Father sat beside me and lent a comforting arm. "Please understand, Psalm, this is difficult for your mother. The nightmares still sometimes come."

"So, it is true. Mother is Aria, the sacrifice."

"Long ago, before you, she was. When she married me, your mother changed her name to Willow Song, hoping to leave the suffering behind. Go talk to her, Psalm. She needs you now."

Nodding, I rose and made my way to my parent's bedroom, touching the wall as a guide. Shadow padded after me, leaning against my leg. Trembling sobs greeted me at the threshold, such as I had never heard from the woman who gave me life. "Mother?" I said meekly as a tear traced my cheek. "I am so sorry that--"

"No, my dear daughter," Mother said, rising to embrace me, her tears joining mine. "None of this is your doing." Mother guided me to the bed, and we sat together. Not to be excluded, Shadow jumped up and laid his head on my lap with a faint whimper.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Mother took up my hands. "You must understand, Naamah is pure evil. The time trapped with her was a sheer hell I wished to forget. Nor did I wish to burden you with that legacy. So many times, I prayed for death, for the Creator God to end my suffering, but instead, God sent your father and grandfather to my rescue."

"But according to the legend, you defeated Naamah in mortal combat, dying yourself."

"That much is untrue. We let the world believe I died, then I became Willow Song and married your father. You, my dear Psalm, became proof of a choice I shall never regret." Mother drew my head down to her shoulder and gently stroked my hair. "And actually, your father slew Naamah. But that is a story for another time."

Since a little girl, I had wondered why the yearly Sacrifice Days were such a somber time for my family. The grandest celebrations took place in Kharse within the king's palace walls, and I so wanted to go. Now, I understood my parent's denial of my insistent requests.

"I am sorry, mother, that I might have contributed to your pain." Two more tears escaped my clouded eyes as I contemplated a question I had never before dared to ask. "My blindness... Did you ever regret having me? Am I a burden?"

Mother hugged me tighter and whispered, "We feared for your future, but never, not even for a heartbeat, did we ever regret bringing you into our lives. You are our Psalm of joy, and loving you was never a burden."

My heart soared as I nuzzled into my mother's embrace. But the issue of Naamah's unexpected appearance remained. "Naamah said my soul is bound to hers. What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Mother answered, "but it is something of great concern."

"Indeed, it is," Grandfather Obius said from the doorway. "I must go to Kharse and study the ancient texts for what they may reveal."

"May I go, too?" I asked. "I very much have a vested interest and I had always wanted to visit--"

My body froze as something called out to me without using my name, like ethereal beckoning in the language of destiny. So compelling was the voice, so irresistible.

"What is it, Psalm?" Mother asked in low tones.

"Do you not hear what calls?"

"We hear nothing."

"It is near, Mother," I said, standing and pivoting. 

Stretching out hands and stepping carefully, I let the voice guide me. Coming to a narrow doorway, I pulled back the coarse-weave curtain that covered a closet. My hands traced wooden shelves down to the lowest. A small hinged wooden box contained the voice. Kneeling down, I slid the box out and it clunked to the floor.

"Psalm? My blood crystal..." Mother said with a gasp, apparently knowing what the box contained.

First feeling along the edge, I lifted the lid. A red glow filled the closet that even my clouded eyes could see. Yet somehow, I sensed no malevolence. With fingers, I gently probed inside, finding a fine metal chain attached to a thumb-sized pendant.

When I grasped the pendant, smooth and cool like glass, the seeing returned, bursting into my mind's eye like a lightning flash. The aura sense, Grandfather called it. I saw everything around me, but not with my eyes: the shelves stacked with folded clothes and linens; the open box; the concerned faces of Mother and Grandfather peering from above; Father joining them; and the glowing crystal in my hand. The sensations became too much, and with a cry, I tumbled back, thumping my head against the door frame.

Shadow yelped as Mother rushed in, helping me stand.

"I see again," I whispered.

Reaching out, I touched my mother's face, tracing it with fingertips. Never before had I visioned her gentle oval face, caring eyes, and flowing dark hair. Nor the burn scar on Father's strong jaw that I often stroked as a young girl while I sat on his lap. Nor Grandfather's long white beard and face wrinkled by a long, full life.

"Truly, you are a powerful oracle, Psalm," my grandfather said. "Like your mother before you."

An oracle... Somewhere, I read of that. An oracle could not wield magic directly, but rather awakened it within others born to magic, those who became mages. A blood crystal helped oracles focus their ability.

"Mother, by the legend, weren't you a mage?" I asked.

"Yes, but also, an oracle," she answered. "A rare combination." Holding out her hands, a miniscule spark of blue emerged from a fingertip. "But that was before magic disappeared."

Silence engulfed the room as an unspoken fear hung like smoke, that magic would come again, and with it, Naamah.

When I lifted the chain holding the blood crystal pendant and held it out to Mother, she shook her head. "It belongs to you now, Psalm."

"Pack a bag, Psalm," Grandfather Obius said. "We shall leave early in the morn."