Ch.142Act 1: Ch.9 – The King Sleeps in Carcosa (11)

Suddenly, Emma closed her mouth. Instead, she gently pressed down on my shoulder. It was a danger signal. I stood still, hiding my body behind a burned tree. The charred branches, split in two, seemed to denounce the pain they had suffered to the world.

The reservoir was rippling.

Anyone who has ever filled a cup with water, whether in jest or by mistake, knows. Even when filled to capacity, water can still sit atop the cup in a plump dome. Viewed from the side, it looks like a muffin with a rounded top. Such precarious balance has a way of capturing one’s attention. Knowing that just one more drop would cause the water to spill over, one savors that delicate equilibrium.

The reservoir water was just like that.

It was dangerously swollen. It seemed obvious that if even a single nightjar fell into it, the water would surge and overflow. The surface reflected the stars and moon, sparkling brilliantly, but it didn’t fully capture the color of the sky. From green to purple, from red to gray. The dizzying effect was like looking into a kaleidoscope, and I couldn’t bear to stare at it for long.

Emma clutched my arm.

“Tears.”

“Tears, you say?”

“Don’t you smell the salt?”

Just then, a breeze blew from the direction of the reservoir, as if shoving something repulsive under my nose to smell. The distinctive fishy odor of rotten fish and the smell of salt invaded my nostrils.

“Look at the sky.”

Emma took my face in her hands and gently lifted it. Nightjars were flying in flocks. They circled above the reservoir like a murder of crows, singing their songs.

What shall we do! What shall we do!

The birds cried out in unison.

What shall we do! What shall we do!

What of a father who doesn’t recognize his child!

What of a father who has forgotten himself!

What of a king who never awakens from his slumber!

What of children who search for their father while he is beside them

What shall we do! What shall we do!

Something fell from the flying birds. Rain streaks that even I could recognize. No, teardrops. They fell into the reservoir. But it was absurd. Even with human-like faces, they were just birds. The idea that the reservoir would overflow from mere bird tears…

“That’s not it.”

Emma whispered. The flute sound that accompanied her every breath was still there. Earlier it had been hauntingly beautiful, but now it was mixed with static like a crackling radio. Time was running out.

“That’s not it. Look carefully. Are the birds the only ones crying?”

Irritation welled up inside me. I wanted to ask if this was really the time for riddles. Why do magicians have to be so frustratingly cryptic? But she was a sick person. And she was trying to help me. For those two reasons alone, I had to suppress my anger. I wasn’t the only one feeling anxious.

I examined the reservoir again. The water had risen even higher than before. It continued to ripple, and with each ripple, the trees above the reservoir swayed, distorting the stars in the sky.

Waves formed on the reservoir.

Yet strangely, no ripples appeared on the surface. It wasn’t a small reservoir where bird tears would cause noticeable ripples.

A thought crawled between my skull and brain like a woodworm. It teased me, almost within grasp but not quite. Something. Something was wrong. Something was out of place. Emma’s breath tickled the nape of my neck.

“There’s no wind.”

I muttered.

“There’s no wind. Bird tears are falling from above, but not even a single pebble. Yet that surface has ripples and… somehow seems to be swelling bit by bit.”

A stifled laugh came from behind me. A laugh weary from long waiting, drowsy with languid satisfaction.

“Yes,” Emma whispered. “The reservoir itself is an eye.”

* * * * *

Emma climbed down from my back. She staggered, but refused my support. Instead, she picked up a burned twig from the ground. It was as thin as her pinky finger and barely a hand’s width long, yet she held it as if it were a magic wand.

“Eyes have power. Look into them and you’ll be drawn in. But are eyes exclusive to humans?”

Cough. Cough. Emma covered her mouth with her hand. Despite her unsteady gait, she walked toward the reservoir. I could do nothing but silently follow her…

“What kind of eye fell into the reservoir? No, whose… what creature’s eye is it?”

…except ask foolish questions. Emma looked up at the sky. She waved the twig. The nightjars descended.

The nightjars didn’t fold their wings. They flew around Emma and me in circles. But they didn’t come unnecessarily close. They just howled strangely from a distance, their mouths split open to their ears.

Only a forest ravaged by winter winds could make such cries. Only a young lamb fearing the wolf’s gaze could wail so plaintively. Only a mother who has lost her child could weep so sorrowfully. Emma, though staggering, waved the twig like a symphony conductor, as if trying to weave the birds’ chorus into harmony.

The birds landed.

Emma swayed.

I caught her. Her forehead was covered in cold sweat, and her face was pallid. Her eye sockets and cheeks were already sunken, and blue veins stood out prominently. Yes, she was dying. With no way to save her life, her body had begun to consume itself.

Yet her eyes remained beautiful. Emma whispered through her pale lips.

“The reservoir misses Aldebaran. That’s why it called the birds.”

“Why?”

“Because they have wings. It thought they might fly through space. It called more birds to convey its sorrow, but none of them could reach space. You…”

Emma cupped my face in her hands.

“You. You walked through space… Did you convey its sorrow?”

No. I didn’t. I merely wandered with bewildered eyes. I thought it was just a terrible, frightening dream. It never occurred to me that I might be an envoy meant to convey someone’s sorrow.

“No.”

“That’s what made the reservoir overflow. The messenger it had waited for so long didn’t deliver its message…”

Cough. Cough. Emma turned her head.

“So we must wipe away its tears. We can’t let those tears flow. It will try to convey its sorrow even if it has to cover the world.”

“How…”

“I’ll confine it to Hyperborea. I’ll place it in a time of eternal longing. Its sorrow cannot take precedence over the world’s destruction. You. Do you want to die?”

No. I didn’t. I didn’t want to die. It was shameful to have such thoughts in front of a woman prepared to die, but I didn’t want to.

Emma smiled and moved away from me.

Blue flames enveloped her body. Like a bride at her wedding, magical flames surrounded her. The birds went wild. Unlike before, they were fearful, threatening, howling, but they couldn’t approach Emma.

The priestess, engulfed in flames, walked toward the reservoir. I could see the reservoir surge and ripple. Emma waved the burned twig in the air.

“The last heir of Hyperborea asks…”

The ground shook. The reservoir writhed like jelly on a shaking plate. The nightjars circled around her more menacingly. I, not knowing what I was doing, grabbed a tree trunk about the size of a baseball bat and stood beside her.

“What sorrow has prevented you from even crying?

What anguish has choked your throat?

What loneliness has left you swaying alone in solitude?

Come. Come to the embrace where you can cry freely…”

The twig turned to dust. The dust particles ignited in the sky, tick, tick, and rotated in a circle. The circle of flames spun and grew larger. Right above the reservoir, it looked as if it were opening its mouth.

The reservoir seemed to be chasing the circle. Just as one might unconsciously stare at something floating before their eyes, the reservoir appeared to be doing the same. Slowly, a whirlpool formed on the surface, as if a giant spoon were stirring the reservoir.

“Come here… come here… to this embrace… where even a stranger can rest comfortably… cough, cough!”

Emma coughed up blood. The reservoir, which had been staring at the burning circle as if entranced, seemed to flinch. The eye of the reservoir, awakened from its trance, was now looking at Emma. On its surface, which had reflected stars and the burning circle, now only Emma was visible.

“Co-come. Come to the bedroom of longing, where no one asks where you’re going or questions what you’re doing, but wholly… cough, cough! Only you…! Cough, ugh!”

Emma fell to her knees. I ran to her side.

“Tell me the spell too!”

Emma was trembling. I could see her eyeballs twitching beneath her half-closed eyelids. Emma barely shook her head. But this was no time to be stubborn. I could see the reservoir splashing uncomfortably.

“No… no…”

“This is no time to argue! Come. Come to the bedroom of longing! Where no one asks where you’re going or questions what you’re doing…!”

Boom! Boom! The surface of the reservoir seemed to be breaking apart. Strange colors swirled. Inside, an indescribable red light swirled. It was like the spreading redness when a drop of blood falls into clear water.

“An… anger…”

The surface writhed this way and that. Something not even an ocean was making small waves. Splash, splash, it tried to strike at Emma and me. The surface grew rougher. Slap, slap!

The sound of birds’ wings could be heard. Emma, Emma! Emma, Emma! Unmistakable hostility enveloped the nightjars. Their mouths called out Emma’s name loudly.

“We need to run!”

I shouted. Even the flames surrounding Emma’s body were dying out. As the flames that had burned her clothes faded, her emaciated body was gradually revealed.

“Ugh… ugh…”

Emma made choking sounds. The cawing birds came closer. Their feathers were close enough to brush against my cheek.

Vrooooom!

Suddenly. The loud sound of a car engine was heard.

Weeeeeeee!

Police siren. Bang! Bang! Gunshots. Blinding headlights. The nightjars flew above us in indignation. A black Buick with a police siren came rushing in. The car door opened with a bang. It seemed more kicked open than opened.

“Federal Security Bureau!”

“Catherine!”

It was Catherine Scully. She came running immediately. Seeing Emma’s condition, she checked her neck and wrist pulse, then wrapped her sister in her own coat.

“To the hospital, quickly!”

Before Catherine could shout, I had already picked up Emma.

“No. Don’t.”

Emma opened her eyes. Her face was distorted to a frightening degree.

“Emma!”

In an instant, flames engulfed her again. Emma, wrapped in flames, rose into the air.

“Emma!”

Catherine screamed. Emma’s body stood above the reservoir. When she opened her mouth, flames shot out from inside her body and circled above the reservoir. As if trying to revive her broken consciousness, Emma pulled fire from within herself.

The reservoir splashed violently as if stamping its feet. The flames carrying Emma’s last life rotated even more fiercely.

“Catherine.”

Despite her body melting in the flames, her tone was calm. Emma’s face looked more peaceful than ever before.

“Why… why!”

“This is what I have to do. Just as you protect people in your way, I’m doing the same in mine. So…”

Burning letters danced before her. Emma’s face was contorted with pain, but she also looked happy. It was the smile of a mother who had finally embraced her child after a long labor.

“So. Won’t you sing with me one last time? A song only you and I can sing. There’s no time.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Emma sang. It was like a baby’s babble, and also like the humming of a toothless old woman. It was in a language I couldn’t even attempt to imitate.

Emma repeated the same verse twice. It was as if she was trying to jog Catherine’s memory. Reluctantly. In resignation. As if wishing someone would just explain. Catherine’s expression was incredibly complex, but she followed Emma in song.

It was a song of understanding and love that only twins who had shared the same experiences could sing, who had understood each other from their mother’s womb.