Roland and Tsubasa examined the contents of the memory drive the twins had recovered from their ship. The small, sleek metallic box had opened with the press of a switch, but it wasn’t so simple to lay bare its secrets. Within lay a complex array of circuits and wires, a labyrinth of connections looping back upon each other, with no writing, no display screens, no buttons or switches to offer a path forward.
“What do we do now?” Erika asked, despondent. “I didn’t know it would be so complicated!”
“It’s a memory drive,” Roland said. “So not only does it contain memory data, it must also have a means of displaying or relaying that data. This complex array is simply a further method of keeping secret what this drive contains.”
“So we just have to solve the puzzle,” Tsubasa said cheerily. She reached into one of her belt pouches, as Roland reached into his bag, and both of them pulled out near-identical sets of tools. Tsubasa’s face lit up. “Is that the Charlotte 530-SVC? That’s the newest set, with a brand new hitch-hook design that’s even more precise than any previous models! But it’s also really expensive.”
“It’s the 530-SVA,” Roland said sheepishly. “Their, ah, affordable line. No upgraded hitch-hook. But it does have the most precise set of splicers I’ve found so far, and one of the newer cold-fire fusion torches. I’ve found I prefer those over the more standard combustion torches.”
“Oh yeah, the cold-fire ones are great,” Tsubasa said with an eager nod. “That’s why I got the Mikado-Tsubayari 72X a year ago. This set is fantastic. Everything a girl could need. Though I still want that 530-SVC…” She sighed dreamily.
“The Mikado-Tsubayari line is excellent!” Roland said, and at his request, Tsubasa and he exchanged tool sets, opening up the leather pouches to reveal the delicate machine-work tools within. Roland gazed in awe at the slim, precision tools, each etched with the kanji signatures of the master engineers Togo Mikado and Goro Tsubayari.
“That’s all very exciting, I’m sure,” Erika said, clearing her throat softly. “But, um, if you could figure out how to bring up the drive’s contents…”
“Oh, right!” Roland said, and laughed a bit, realizing how caught up in the moment he’d gotten. He and Tsubasa swapped back their toolsets, and set to work investigating the drive’s contents. They chatted as they worked, talking out the possibilities as they shifted around wires and used tiny illuminating probes to investigate what lay beneath the various circuits. It was a vertical labyrinth as much as a horizontal one, a tiny, ultra-complex puzzle-box in numerous layers.
“This is gonna be a handful,” Tsubasa said. She took a deep breath, then consulted with Roland. “What do you think? I could run a scanner while you flip some of the micro-toggles, or —”
“Oh, no, I’ll leave the close-in work for you,” Roland said. He’d noticed just in their short examination that Tsubasa’s hands were even more deft and steady than his own. She had a real talent for this work. “Let’s start on the top layer, and work our way down.”
“Standard grid progression,” Tsubasa said, nodding. “When the answer isn’t obvious, or cleverness doesn’t yield immediate answers, fall back to ol’ reliable — stubborn thorough investigation.”
They set to work, Roland holding a symphonic scanner that keyed into tones that Tsubasa set off by carefully probing circuits with a specialized micro-tuning fork for this kind of delicate work, flipping microscopic toggles attached to various circuits, or using a circular tuning implement to rub along wires to elicit a resonance. Within sound — within song — lay the secrets of the world, if one knew how to make sense of the information presented to them. Roland didn’t just hold the scanner, but jotted down results in a notebook. His scanner, in the Charlotte 530 line like his tool set, could remember and recall up to two thousand readings. But Roland always found that writing everything out helped him get a firmer grasp of it, and made it easier to work with his findings once all the data was collected.
“I’d ask questions,” Erika said, “but I’m pretty sure the answers would make my head spin. But this will take a while, won’t it?”
“Yep,” Tsubasa said, her casual tone belying the intensity of her gaze and the focus she put into the work. Silence started to settle in, save for the sounds of Tsubasa’s mechanical work, the tones of Roland’s scanner, and the scratch of his pencil on paper. Muirrach sat back, sipping at his tea, thinking his own thoughts. Erika opened up the book of fairy tales that Tock and Maxwell had gifted her. Enrique watched the pair work for the longest time, but eventually he, too, settled into a book to while away the wait.
Roland and Tsubasa discovered that there were six vertical layers of machinery. The memory drive was only nine inches by seven inches, and about two inches deep. It was astonishing how much tiny machinery could be squeezed into that box, arrayed in such a complex, detailed pattern. Roland codified all his findings by layer, denoting connections by drawing out sketches of how things fit together to help aid his mind in organizing the information. When the pair had finished collecting all the data they could, Roland laid out his pages of findings, and Tsubasa copied his work so that they could both look at it all, making notes, testing equations, and discussing the possibilities.
They all drained their drinks and finished their pastries, and Muirrach left the private room to order fresh drinks and desserts. It was on a third round of tea, with Roland’s cup down to just dregs, when he and Tsubasa hit upon a possibility.
“That’s… so freaking simple,” Tsubasa said, smacking her forehead. “You really think it’s that?”
“Hidden within all this complex machinery, the simplest answer might be the cleverest,” Roland said. “It was awfully hard to see, after all.” He sat back, stretched his aching shoulders and neck, and then leaned forward towards the box again. He looked aside at Tsubasa, matching the excitement in her eyes. “Shall we try it?”
“We shall,” Tsubasa said, grinning.
Erika, Enrique, and Muirrach watched with bated breath as Roland and Tsubasa reached into the middle layer with fine instruments, where two sets of micro-toggles — one red, one blue — were waiting to be flipped. They flipped them in an alternating order, then sat back, waiting with bated breath.
And the device hummed to life. Tiny panels slid open to reveal lighted nodes in various colors, each node barely half the size of a pencil eraser. The lights arrayed themselves into a pattern, which resolved into a holographic display floating inches above the drive’s mechanical layers, parallel to it all, like a ghostly layer of light hidden by the machine’s puzzle. This display looked rather like the display on a touch-operated handheld computing device, with a central menu that showed various categories to select from:
Flight Log
Comms Log
Personal Data [Encrypted]
Project Files
Recordings
“Where… do we start?” Erika asked, gazing in awe and trepidation.
“I don’t think we need to bother with the Flight Log or Comms Log,” Enrique said. “If Personal Data is encrypted, then we might not be able to get in. So we should check either Project Files or Recordings.”
“Recordings,” Erika said, tapping on the menu icon. It flashed, as if she’d touched something solid rather than a screen of light, and then the menu options disappeared, displaying new ones. Actually, only one. It was just a date: the thirteenth day of the third month, nine years ago.
“There’s only one,” Erika said. Her finger hovered over the option. She looked at her brother. “What do you think…?”
“We won’t know unless we check it out,” Enrique said. He gave her a nod, and Erika tapped on the date.
The screen suddenly shot a beam of light a few inches above it, which transformed into a three-dimensional image of two adults, a man and a woman, from the chest up. The woman was clearly the twins’ mother, Isadora — she looked just as she had in Aîrchal, when they’d met her there: long, flowing platinum-blonde hair, bright green eyes. She didn’t smile like she had at Aîrchal, but she had a kind, gentle face. The man with her wore a pair of round spectacles over silvery-blue eyes, and his hair was a wavy blonde, not as light and ethereal as the woman’s — or the twins’. He had very kind eyes, Roland thought, full of keen intellect, but also a gentle soul longing to do good.
But what made Roland and Tsubasa gasp, and Muirrach’s eyes widen in surprise, was when the image moved. The couple were tinkering with something, and then sat back, as if this were happening in real time, as if they were ghosts before them.
“Is this… a video?” Tsubasa asked, gaping.
“Oh, right, you’ve never seen them before,” Enrique said. He tapped something on the display, even though both he and Erika were clearly full of emotion. The image froze in place, unmoving. “It’s, um…” He took a breath, then let it out slowly. “Well. It’s a video recording. Moving images and sound, not sound alone or frozen pictures. Those are our parents. They… must have recorded this just after we landed. Before we left the ship behind.”
“Okay,” Tsubasa said. “Sorry, I just… I was so surprised. You can go ahead.”
Enrique tapped the display, and the recording started back up again. He and Erika held hands, gazing with longing upon this image of their parents.
“There we go,” said the man, pushing up his glasses. He had a soothing, temperate voice that effortlessly put others at ease. “Well. Where to begin?”
“Are you sure this is necessary?” asked Isadora. She looked back, and those gathered around the table caught a glimpse behind the parents of two small children, only three years old, sleeping on a bundle of quilts.
“We need a record, just in case,” said the father. “Isa.” He held her hand, and she looked at him. “We’re going to do our best. But they may end up coming back here without us. If we don’t get to tell them what they need to know… they have to find out somehow.”
“Right,” Isadora said. She sighed, then looked ahead, straight at them. At the camera, Roland realized — a camera that could record movement, and sound on top of that. Fascinating. “Erika. Enrique. Something terrible has happened. You know that much — even as babies, you two are so clever, so observant, so wise. You’ll grow up so fast — too fast, I’m sure. We’re sorry about that. But we had to leave, or everything that we’ve worked towards would be jeopardized forever.” She took in a trembling breath, then shook her head, looking at her husband.
“We of New Elysia are exiles,” the father said, with bitter regret. “It’s a long, complicated story. But we were given a gift in our exile: New Elysia. It was home. For some… that wasn’t good enough. Even so, we were all doing well together, making the most of our life, recognizing all of us together as a shared family, the only family we had left. All was held in peace — until it all changed. Until… you.” He smiled, tears shining in his eyes.
“The miracle,” Isadora said softly.
The father nodded quickly. “Right, yes, you… wouldn’t realize,” he said. “When we were brought to New Elysia, we were… frozen in time. We could live, and move, and continue to go about our lives. We could build, and make something of our home. We could research, and develop new ideas, but… we did not age. And because of our new physical condition, we… could not create new life. We couldn’t have children.” He took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. He looked at his glasses for a moment, then folded them up and tucked them in his shirt pocket. “We still don’t know how it happened.” A smile touched his lips, like the first glimpse of dawn over a dark horizon. He laughed, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “You two… you’re the miracle. Beyond possibility. Beyond anything we could ever have invented or constructed, beyond all that our great minds and technology could conjure up. You are the greatest gift we could have ever received.”
Isadora smiled, too. But after a brief pause, she continued with grim seriousness. “Unfortunately, a miracle is not always welcomed by all people,” she said. “There were the obvious reactions — couples longing for new children, wondering why such a miracle wasn’t bestowed upon them as well. But there were also more dangerous ideas, more sadistic minds. They didn’t look at you two as precious, beautiful children, innocent and in need of protection and guidance. They looked at you with questions. The ‘why,’ of course. But also the ‘how.’ Meaning: how could they use you to their own benefit?”
“There had already been a conflict brewing in regards to Songbird, New Elysia’s governing force,” the father said. “But you two… you weren’t just ordinary children. You had a special bond to Songbird, a connection none of us possessed. There was a resonance linking you. Naturally, those looking to usurp control of Songbird for themselves saw you as the way in. The way to make all their nefarious dreams possible.”
“So we… stole Songbird,” Isadora said. She bowed her head, and the weight of that decision was apparent when she spoke again. “New Elysia went dark, as we soared away from it. We thought… we feared… we had condemned all our people to death. But… what they had planned, what they longed for with their farcical ‘Reunion’ would have been too horrible to contemplate. Too horrible to allow. We took Songbird, and you two, and flew far away.”
“But the others didn’t die,” the father said, looking urgently now at the camera. “We’ve already seen ships launch from New Elysia. So many ships… they’ve all come in pursuit of us. We don’t want to alarm you right now, and we’re confident we can elude them. But… if it comes to it… we’re going to let them chase us.” He held Isadora’s hand, and gave it a strong squeeze as they shared a look. “Us. Not you. The two of you… you can uphold our mission. You can carry the wishes of the world back home. Bring the wishes to Elysia.” He looked back at the camera, and smiled. “Find the door. The lighthouse will point the way. If not here, then look to the stars. And you two… you’re the keys. Not devices, not something artificial, no. You, and Songbird… the resonance that binds you… it also calls you home. Elysia’s doors have shut. You two, our precious miracles — you can open the doors once more. Find the lighthouse. Follow its beacon. Open the doors, and make all our wishes come true.”
“We love you,” Isadora said, beaming. “More than life itself. And I pray, if you have had to find out the truth through this recording, that you don’t lose hope. That we will see each other again.”
“Don’t lose hope,” their father said. “Don’t you ever lose hope. We love you.”
There was a crackling of white noise, and then the recording winked out.
Erika sniffled, and rubbed at her eyes. Enrique sat back, staring at the space where his parents’ images had been, a faraway look in his eyes.
For a long time, no one spoke.
“They… didn’t say enough,” Erika said. She gave another sniff, and wiped at her eyes some more. “What lighthouse? Why are we the keys? Why… what is Songbird? Why… aren’t they here, telling us themselves? Where are they?”
And she broke down, crying. Enrique wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his chest, sobbing.
As her crying slowed and softened, Enrique said gently, “We have to hope. Just like they said. We will find them. Or they’ll find us.”
“But when?” Erika asked, shaking her head. “It’s been too long. I just…”
“I know,” Enrique said.
“We’ll see what we can find out about this ‘lighthouse’ business,” Roland said. “It rings a bell, and I wish I could recall why. But pursuing Elysia will undoubtedly put you back in their path, in time.”
“There are texts about the lighthouses of Elysia,” Muirrach said thoughtfully. “They were placed by her people, before the Fracturing. As if in expectation that the calamity would come to pass, and Elysia would be lost, sealed away, and need to be found again. None of the lighthouses have been found since the Fracturing, but if your parents are telling you to find ‘the’ lighthouse, then they must have discovered something. We should look deeper into what data is available on this memory drive. There should be clues here.”
“Right!” Tsubasa said. “And don’t forget, Erika — Lairah said she didn’t know where your parents were. So Reunion doesn’t have them. They’re out there, somewhere. They’ve gotta be!”
“She did say that,” Erika said, pulling away from her brother. She grabbed a napkin and wiped at her tear-soaked face. “And she was offering us all sorts of answers… until that Sparrow guy ruined everything. She must know so much. All of them must, if they’ve been… frozen in time…” She looked up, the weight of that realization suddenly dawning on her.
“All of them,” Roland said, “your parents included… are from Elysia. The true Elysia.”
“Exiles,” Enrique murmured, staring at the table. “What did that mean? Why were they exiled? What happened, so long…” And he trailed off. No one could continue on that line of thought.
So long ago would be before the Fracturing. Uncounted years. Centuries. Eons. So much history, so many incredible answers and truths, lay within the hearts and minds of those people. The twins’ parents. And all of Reunion.
Now Roland knew, better than ever, the weight and purpose of that name. Elysia had been the one true paradise, a land of wishes and beauty, the home of the Song of the Creator Himself. To be cut off from that perfection… to be cast out into a mechanical city, a place without life, without growth…
No wonder they were desperate for reunion. No wonder they would do anything to go back home.
——
Lairah stood in the reflection chamber, hands clasped behind her back, before the large doors that stood shut.
The other three leaders of Reunion were in conference. When it was her time, she would be called in.
She stood unmasked, though she still had her Eagle mask. It hung from her belt. Along with her weaponized gauntlet, which she had removed.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever put it back on again.
“I believe you want to do what’s right. But as long as you’re using a weapon like that, you’re just a destroyer.”
“The Lairah I remember… I could see her being steadfast. I’m sure she would fight for what she believes in. But she would never be cruel. No matter how desperate.”
Erika’s words burned in her heart. And they brought to mind the past, putting Lairah’s actions in a new light in her memory. Threatening the Tuning Assistant — the Summoner, Roland — with death on their very first meeting. And then roughly abducting the twins and priming a gauntlet right at Roland’s head at their second meeting. And then, on the Rig…
“I’ll go through you,” she’d said to Roland, as he stood between her and the twins.
“I don’t believe you will,” he’d replied.
And he was right. But I… to think that I threatened that much. To think that I was that desperate, that willing to use violence to capture — not rescue, for they were in no danger — the twins…
What have I become? What have I let this life, this longing, turn me into?
She stared at her hands — ungloved, ungauntleted. They were smooth. Strangely soft. As if they’d never been used for violence.
Or as if they weren’t meant for violence. As if, in defiance to Lairah’s own actions, they resisted the effects the path she’d walked should have had upon her.
Things need to change. It starts with me. And then…
The doors opened. Lairah was called in. She looked up, seeing the round table, and Sparrow, Heron, and Owl seated around it.
They, too, need to change.