Satin Voices

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. We all knew that floating among those dripping plum orbs were the ones born from mist itself, older than the cosmos and brutal as the dark of night.

As the flushed sky turns inky, you would imagine clouds to be lost in the gaze of the beholder, but these clouds were distinct, divergent. Lilac and mauve hues emanate from behind as a halo, illuminating the sky as if they composed their own light. Every so often, some of these frosty beings dropped low enough you reached out to touch them, only to find they were always slightly out of reach.

The clouds have been part of my life since I was a little girl, each night appearing different than the last. Every night, the mist returns to the midnight sky, as a reminder of the destruction and power their force holds. The mysterious beings within have the power to bring famine, plague, and raze a town if so tempted. Last year, the clouds got close enough to bring a devastating plague which felled half our village.

Despite their cruel nature, I have felt a deep connection to the clouds my entire life; I know the power that courses through my veins, they have given me. Water moves to avoid my step, and the earth shakes in my presence. Tomorrow is my birthday, and I don’t want it to happen this year, I’m not ready, I-

“Amysa!”, I hear my mother call over my wandering mind. We live in a meager wooden hut on the outskirts of our village, simple but enough. I lift my head from the grass and peel my vision away from the mesmerizing mist drifting through the night sky.

“Come inside, you mustn’t linger!” She sternly commands, as if I hadn’t been outside for hours already. “I need help finishing dinner.”. Not a request, got it. I make my way through the tall grass, savoring the way it brushes my hand as I pass. She isn’t the same after father.

“Geira”, She hates when I call her by her first name, “This house has just enough, especially after-”,

“Don’t you ever say his name again.” She growls, almost pleading.

“He deserves to be remembered after what he went through. Our forgetfulness won’t bring healing.” I say, carefully but with strength. My father, her husband, our rock. The plague took him this past year, and his suffering is something I won’t soon forget. Ever since then, she struggles to provide for our family alone.

“The clouds know no morality. The purple mist harbors their lifeforce, their collective consciousness. Every night they return to haunt us and bring sickness to our people. Don’t you dare speak of what they took from us again, Amysa.” And with that, she was done. She goes back to finish cooking, and I am once again left, alone.

I drift off towards my own room, a small section we have cordoned off and placed a small wooden cot that my father made when I was a little girl. My feet are hanging off the edge, but we can’t afford a new one. My hand lowers to underneath the frame where we once carved the words together, always, and I can feel the knot in my throat start to form. He was the soft presence that helped to create a family, the one that my mother adored. I share his features, the coarse russet brown hair, sharp cheekbones, lanky body- and she sees him every time she looks in my eyes. Since he left us, she has been cold and aloof, leaving me alone with my feelings. And I have so many. Despite her outward arrogance, she is a deep well of sadness unable to face her newfound loneliness- and all I have left. My hand rises to eye level, and I twirl the mist in the air around me, a perk of my powers. Purple aura emanates from water droplets I pull from the air, heeding to my every wish.

I look out the window, tracing the path the lavender halo cleaves through the night sky, an artery of beautiful light. As I drift off into sleep, I thought I saw the purple form a face and grin.

* *

I awake with a jerk to the sound of wailing, screaming. Mother. Instantly I am out of bed, scrambling to find shoes and bolt outside, having never changed my clothes. My ratty braid slaps against the small of my back as I run towards the center of town, having recognized the harsh shrieking. Pushing people out of my way, stumbling over my own feet, I turn the corner and –

Purple. Lavender. Lilac. Violet. These are all words I could use to describe what I witness as I stumble into the square, mesmerized by the hues. A wall of plum mist covers the town square, impenetrable to the human gaze. Enchanting, and I can’t take my eyes off its beauty. I find myself being drawn in, mouth agape, slowly stumbling into its arms.

With a start, I feel a strong hand on my arm, yanking me back towards the edge of the square. My mind clears if only for a moment, and I recognize the horror unfolding around me. One of the townspeople pulled me back, and explained, “The mist descended over the town this morning, and no one has ever gotten this close. They say if you get close enough, you can hear its chants. I wouldn’t test that out if I were you.”.

Mother, where is my mother? I cannot bear to lose the last of my family. I watch as the people around me are being drawn into the mist, and a chill goes down my spine when they vaporize as the cloud grows. Their eyes are clouded over with a purple smoke, and I see it grow in the eyes of the man who rescued me. The purple turns a darker maroon with each life it evaporates. I feel its pull, but more than that, I can feel its mind. I can feel its dark, stormy energy as purple shadows every building.

I think back to when my father was alive, his rich accent telling me of the powers I possess, and the plans we made:

“My love, Amysa. I must explain. You have powers that are growing from deep inside, I know you can feel their presence. You are confused, and wondering where they came from. I must confess, your powers are becoming harder to hide, and must now be learned. You arise from the mist; you are born of the purple. Your mother and I were unable to bear children, but always dreamed of becoming a family. We turned to the only being we knew powerful enough to grant us the one thing we wanted in life more than anything else. In return for giving us a child, the purple haze returns each night until your eighteenth birthday to deepen your powers. Then, on the day it gave your life, it demands return of what was given so long ago.”.

“I don’t understand father, what do we need to give in return?”

“You, my love. You.”

I look deeper, into the cloudy mist, and find her. My parents traded eighteen years of my life for this moment. There, suspended as if from invisible ropes tied to every limb, is my mother. Protected from the mist by imperceptible beings, hanging in the center, eyes completely shadowed over with plum. I'm too late, this isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“GEIRA!”, I shout, with urgency. “Mother!”. She dangles lifelessly, a word never to cross her lips again. Her heart still resides within the flesh and sinew prison, but no blood moves through it. I want to rush into the mist, into its open arms and rescue her from the eternal grasp of death. The last of my family, gone. I have lost everything I love. But I must clear my head, bide my time – remember my plans.

I inch closer to the near opaque mask of violet, digging deep into the well of my mind. I can feel the magnetic pull of its presence, the near impossible to resist drag. I feel for the part of myself that is connected to the purple, feel for that bond that unites us. Closing my eyes, I reach deep within to yank on that bond, make the maroon shudder. I can hear it now, the chanting. The soft, silky-smooth melody, “Join us, join us, join us…”. I feel the purple shift its focus towards me, towards the extension of itself that it so wants to rejoin.

“Come get me if you want me, thing.”

I turn and run away from the town square, away from the people. Away from the screams, the shouts, the pain, the suffering. Away from the bones and blood left in its wake.

I can feel its ominous presence frantically searching, following my every step. I don’t dare look back for fear of what I may see, I don’t dare search for my mother. Not yet. I reach a clearing at the edge of the woods, away from the innocent people so harmed from its presence. I finally stop, and with shaking breath I turn around, facing those clouds of purple I have seen every night at midnight. So much larger in person, I take a moment to notice the intricacies of its shape, the ebb and flow of the water droplets illuminated by a purple halo.

The deep satin speaks again, “Join, Amysa, join.”. And so, I do.

Stepping into the dark mist, I am instantly ingulfed with power. I feel every drop willing my soul to evaporate, to become one with the violet. The pull is almost irresistible, and I consider how easy it would be to just let go, to just – No. For my family. For the innocent lives left ended, no more violence.

Instead, I start to pull back. I gather every last ounce of strength in my body, and pull. I can feel the droplets in my immediate vicinity start to heed to my power, my force. They start circling, spinning around me in a whirlpool of activity. More and more start to join their numbers, and I am gaining power on the everlasting being resting within these colors. I can feel the purple pulling back, confused, trying to gain traction in a battle soon to be lost. Good thing father taught me well.

I am using all my power, all my energy, every last drop. I can feel myself wearing thin, but I must give everything. I am surrounded by pools of lilac, mauve, lavender, the most beautiful and daunting array of colors I have every seen. I take this awe, this newfound wonder and use the last bit of energy to pull all the droplets towards me, into my very being. I am engulfing the purple; the mist is becoming part of my soul. I am becoming what people fear the most. With one last rip, the purple slams into my body, knocking me off my feet and into the unforgiving ground of the earth. I can feel the power pulsing through my veins, and I stare up one last time at the night sky, now forever void of purple.

My eyes flutter, and I feel my body giving out. I take one last breath as Amysa, and shut my eyes for good.

**

I awake as the clouds.

Without eyes, I search with my soul. The sky around me is now a cobalt shade of blue, purple mixed with my own essence. Until the universe ceases to exist, I will fulfill my promise never to let the purple escape again.