She struck the strings several times, and spoke. As she spoke, images appeared in the air above the table, woven from the magic of her music and voice, breathing life into the story.

  “Mankind, always exploring, pushing themselves, reached too far and were burned by their ambition.” The illusory image manifested as a hand, reaching for a burning ball of fire. The fingers shifted in anticipation, reaching closer, touching the edge of the flames, which spread from the point of contact and consumed it. The burning hand recoiled and vanished.

  “I know not of the events leading up to the Day of the Fallen. For those of us in this realm, it was a day like any other.” She continued swiping the bachi across the strings. An illusory bird flitted among tree limbs in a forest. The vision shifted, a fish leapt from sparkling waters, sending a cascade of water droplets into the sky. A rainbow reflected in the displaced water.

  “Those that came knew not how or why. Witnesses saw red pinpricks of light that ate away at the very fabric of existence, expanding into horizontal swirling spirals of red and black.” The image shifted as she changed the melody. It became more energetic, laced with a frantic energy. A portal opened as she described, starting as a red ember and spreading horizontally into a swirling circular mass of undulating black and red power.

  “Lucky humans fell from a few feet. The unlucky rained from the sky, for the placement of these doorways was without reason. Some survived the fall with nothing more than a few bruises. Most didn’t.” The swirling portal shrank and rose from the table. A forest appeared near the table’s surface, far below the portal. Tiny shadowy figures emerged from the portal, falling from high above the clouds. She flicked the bachi against the strings and small screams joined the melody.

  “Portals appeared around every populated area. Hundreds of native people died from the falling bodies. And it was in this manner that humanity first entered this world.” The image shifted again and again, showing various buildings and structures within a city, collapsing under the weight of falling bodies.

  “The exact number of bodies that fell on that day is not known, but thousands of humans survived the fall. Tens of thousands. It is said that only one in ten humans stood after landing. And so, the first burden of humanity was felt across the many kingdoms, who now had a multitude of dead, putting their people at risk of disease and illness.” The bachi danced across the strings, strumming in both directions, bringing forth feelings of fear and uncertainty. The illusion shifted to vast expanses of roadways littered with corpses covered in white cloths. Elves, dwarves, beastkin, and a multitude of other races working to eradicate the corpses. Some were burned, others buried. An elven child coughed into her hands.

  “The survivors had no time to mourn the loss of their world and their loved ones. Not a one knew why they were here. The story was always the same. They had been going about their lives as normal and suddenly found themselves falling.

  “Humans were new to the world, and this realm is far from a paradise. Conflicting kingdoms and races vie for power at every corner. The lucky were taken in and exploited. The unlucky were slain or exiled.” The illusion shifted, the song building tension with a quickening tempo. A shadowy figure walked along a snowy hill, wrapped in a tattered cloak held tight against the wind. A smaller figure walked alongside the first, but fell. The smaller figure didn’t move, laying facedown in the snow, as the larger figure continued shuffling through the rising drifts.

  “But humanity is resilient. Groups banded together, carved out a place for survival. Some few formed tribes and adapted a nomadic lifestyle.” The image shifted, showing several tents made from animal hides on a clearing amidst a dry, grassy plain.

  “Most stayed in the cities that accepted them. The acceptance was reluctant, and the denizens made this known.” Teepees and rolling grasslands gave way to groups of humans toiling in fields, breaking stones, and hauling cargo from the hull of a boat.

  The melody shifted, slowing. With two last swipes of the bachi, Mae brought the song to a close. The illusion dissipated in a cloud of tiny butterflies that flew away, breaking into small particles until they were gone.

  “And thus humanity has struggled on the fringes of society, now four generations gone. No knowledge of their arrival. No hope of a return. Their hopes have shifted over time, as their perception of home has shifted. My guests, which once spoke of finding a way to return home, now talk of their own kingdom.”

  She reached over and used a pair of tongs to pour steaming sake from the ceramic bottle. She poured five glasses and passed them around.

  “So humans have only been here for what… a hundred years?” Abernathy asked. I picked up the small glass of sake surprised at its heat. I gently blew over the top for a few seconds.

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  Mae threw back the steaming sake, sighing pleasurably. “This year will mark the 115th year since the Day of the Fallen.”

  “115 years…” Katarina whispered. I drank back the sake, a pleasant warmth that traveled down my throat and rested at the base of my stomach.

  “Still no excuse to kidnap and steal people like products,” I thought about how many times I had come across some form of human trafficking since coming to Veil. “Though more than humans do that.”

  “Indeed,” Mae agreed, nodding, “the trade of slaves is an ancient thing that has mostly died out over time, with a few exceptions in the more… brutal… societies. Even today, most kingdoms have outlawed such trade. Practitioners of the business are now forced to travel further to deal in their goods. It is only recently, with the rumors of changelings in the areas to the east, that there has been a resurgence of such people traveling through my mountains.

  “It is impossible to tell a changeling apart from the race they are imitating without a specific kind of magic. Theirs is an even sadder tale, and one we don’t have time for today. Just know that more than one kingdom was built on the bones and blood of changelings, and more than one kingdom has crumpled under their influence. There is a reason they are hunted.”

  She poured steaming cups of tea for each of us.

  “You know more about changelings?” I asked, leaning forward. The earthy scent of the green tea filled my nose. “Can you please tell us more?”

  “I would love nothing less, but it wouldn’t be a good idea. I do not wish to inadvertently feed from family. Let us share some tea, and then you must be on your way.”

  “Feed from family, what do you mean?” Encore asked, cocking his head to the side.

  “Ahh, you are young to this world, my cousin. I am from a much older branch of the family. I sometimes think I may be the last of my kind, though I hope not. We live extraordinarily long lives, as long as we can stay hidden and fed.”

  I glanced down at the tea, a nervous feeling building in my stomach. Mae saw the expression on my face and smiled, sipping from her tea. “Worry not, bonded one. The tea is safe. That is not how I draw my energy from this world. I survive by telling stories.

  “Those of my kind, the kistune, distant cousins of the kitsiho,” she nodded to Encore, “that failed to control their hunger have long since been hunted. I do not kill. I only nibble from travelers. This pass is frequented enough to keep me fed, but not enough to risk my home from multitudes of prying eyes.

  “It is a simple thing, to wash myself from the memories of those I feed from. Were I to play another song, tell another story, the process would happen on its own. I don’t wish to feed from you, cousin, nor your companions, so there will be no more stories. No more songs.” She eyed my lute.

  “Though I would be remiss if I didn’t request to hear a song from your companion. You are a bard, no?”

  I nodded. “Sort of.”

  “A damned good one,” Katarina added.

  “I don’t know about that,” I started to say.

  “He’s humble, but Chanter practices a lot and has improved considerably since we first met,” Abernathy sipped at the hot tea after speaking, somehow blushing through his fur as Mae’s gaze drifted over to him.

  I pulled my lute around.

  “Beautiful instrument,” Mae caressed the instrument she held lovingly. “Every instrument holds a story”.

  I thought for a moment before arranging my fingers on the neck of the lute. I played the first few notes of Requiem Vitae and both Abernathy and Katarina broke out in smiles. Encore stood, stretching and forming the furry subwoofers in his back, supporting my performance.

  The song poured through me, from my strums and plucking fingers, from the knock knock of my thumb knuckle on the lute’s emerald soundboard. I released a subtle stream of mana into the song as I performed, increasing the volume and potency. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the performance.

  Mae stared at me with large, wet eyes as I ran my thumb down the strings in the final note of the performance. Knock knock. A single tear streaked down her cheek.

  “Such music, the beauty of harmony between the two of you. Tell me, where did you learn that song? Such a haunting, loving melody.”

  “He wrote it,” Katarina said, blowing her nose into a handkerchief, her voice thick with pride. I nodded.

  Mae nodded back. “You have given me a gift on this day. Your music has brought back memories long forgotten. Thank you. Thank you. Please, you must accept a gift in return.”

  She stood, turning and walking back into the home, ignoring my objections when I tried to say her story had been a gift of its own. She returned a moment later with a sheet of paper, wet with fresh enchanted ink.

  “I want you to have this song,” she said, extending the paper towards me. “It is a legacy of our family. The magic won’t settle into the paper until the ink dries, but once it is settled you will be able to learn it.”

  She bowed as she extended the sheet music in two hands towards me. I bowed back as I accepted it.

  “Thank you, so much,” I said, inspecting the words and notes written in a flowing, elegant hand.

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