‘Guardians of the Steeds’ Lyric Kissed
When Lyric sang, even the weather would listen...
To say that Lyric's gift was unusual would be an understatement. Lyric's voice was gift enough; it was sweet and clear with a range that let him reach high through low notes with pitch perfect accuracy, and he could hold any of them seemingly effortlessly and endlessly. He sang from the heart, stripping himself bare and sharing his feelings selflessly with those he sang for, lacing each word with genuine emotion. It was not Lyric's voice that captivated, however, though Lyric's voice was lovely indeed, but the real magic was in the words. And the words, the strange and beautiful words, were a mystery all of their own. For a start, nobody knew where they came from. Lyric never knew what it was he was going to sing before those long clear notes were bursting from him, for they were not of any language that Lyric knew, nor could any of his tutors find its origin, yet certainly they were a language and certainly they had meaning. Meaning and power. Lyric understood them perfectly at the time of singing, as he reached for them and each and every one formed, seemingly of its own accord, and as they spilled and tumbled from his lips he understood them as he had understood nothing else. His voice brought them forth and he became one with them, their meaning as crystal clear as his singing, and yet afterwards he could not hold onto it, could not remember, as though the secrets it contained were not meant to stay in this world, had been loaned for the duration of the song only. The words were the real enchantment, with them Lyric could reach everything that could hear, and to hear Lyric's song was to fall under its spell. The breeze, the air, was the first that he learned, or maybe it was that the breeze taught him. Lyric did not know how it had come about; as with so much of his gift he did not remember, did not even remember a time when he had not known , but whenever he sang the air stirred, and the strange words came, and with them he learned to shape the things around him. He learned to sing the wind to life, to send it gusting through the trees, setting their branches and leaves swaying until they too danced with him. He learned to calm the air, to soothe the storms that came raging in from the sea, the high, clear notes of his song audible, even over the anger that lashed from the sky. Weather-worker and wind-singer was just the first step...