I must make her as unfeeling as I am.
Only then will she be able to walk in snowstorms without freezing to death.
Logic must be her guide. Not emotion.
The icy needle finds its mark. The brightest spark within her mind.
That’s when I begin to hum.
A soft song of pure emptiness.
Not fury. Not hatred. Not fear.
A song that will simply consume every emotion within her heart and mind. All the good. All the bad. And turn it all to nothing.
She will become calm like a still pond.
Behind my closed eyelids, tears gather, a physical reaction that carries no emotional content and has no logical cause.
I have no reason to feel grief for what she will lose. I barely know her, have scarcely interacted with her. I haveno personal experience of her dreams, hopes, aspirations, or even her resentments, sins, and dislikes.
No logical reason to mourn.
But with every soft note I utter, my shoulders hunch further forward, my head bows, and my throat squeezes, tightening around my vocal cords.
Until…
“I can’t.” My whisper is snatched away in the wind, met only with Nara’s soft whimper, but it doesn’t change what I know to be true: I can’t do this to the Oracle.
Overwhelmingly, it’s now logic that tells me so.
Without emotions, an Oracle cannot be an Oracle. In all my research, it was clear that Oracles do not wield their power with precision, but with messy hope.
They foresee harm and act to prevent it. Without an emotional connection driving them to thwart that damage, they would not act at all. They may even relish the cruelty that follows from their inaction.
If Thyra were heartless, she could become another False Queen.
Reason tells me it would be far better to let her pass away so that another Oracle can rise.
Logic tells me I’m right.
Why, then, does a roar press at my throat?
Why do I feel as if my chest were cracking open?
Squeezing my eyes closed, I push back at both sensations. To utter the wrong sound right now when I’m drawing on my Lethian power could cause catastrophic damage to everything around me.
Pressing my lips firmly together, I stop singing, allowing the air to fill once more with the rush of wind, the billow of icy snowflakes, and the darkness of an unfeeling night.
Slowly, carefully, I withdraw the needle of icy power thatdid not complete its work, leaving her thoughts and feelings intact.
I expel a final, soundless breath, releasing the tension in my vocal cords and allowing my Lethian power to become dormant once more.
Then I gather Thyra into my arms, pulling her close, wrapping my thin cloak around her and leaning into Nara, nestling Thyra between us. Like a dying mother wolf trying to warm her cub.
Nara whines softly, pressing inward, her wolfish eyes raised to mine.
I wish I could feel what other fae might feel right now.
