Song of Sorcha

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If I should die tonight let it be known that I was finally free. That I was loved. Blame no other for aiding us in this thing, for none could have prevented it. Just as we could not prevent it. It happened quickly and without warning. Without breath or thought. Without will or desire.

At least, at first. Now there is only will and desire. His. Mine.

Now there is only L and I.

I think often of the night I first looked upon him as my voice worked its magic upon the citizens gathered in the great ballroom of Catesby House. They say that my song can turn joy to despair, deepest sorrow to glorious rapture in those not of the Fae. And so it had that night.

I had not thought him real at first. So sure was I that my wistful mind had again conjured a vision too perfect to be true. But there he stood amongst his kind. Black of hair and pale of skin; the air of an heir. A black-eyed beauty in its purest form.

Suddenly, I knew why we were here. Why I was here. In this land. I understood then why our home had been made among the ruins of theirs. For how else would he have found me? My Oisín.

My voice faltered that night — the first time it had ever failed me. Garnett whipped me raw for it but it did not matter, for I had gone to bed with more than tears upon my cheek. I had also gone with the taste of L upon my lips. For while Garnett had collected his coin for my wares, my love stole into the carriage where I waited, his breath warm and his embrace tight as he told me he would count the moments until he could look upon me again. Until he could hear me sing for him again.

Tonight, the snow falls outside. I have always found Carnival Row to be prettiest under the delicate white lace of its purity. It is on nights like this I dream of loosing my wings from their binds and soaring up into the sky to view the world of white below. Except, what need have I of flight now? Of air and sky when my love is of fire and earth?

Tonight his nose and cheeks will pink from the cold. Tonight his dark eyes will turn bright when I place his hand upon the light growing within me. The light they would seek to smother. Yet but another reason to leave this place tonight, together.

I am afraid. I am not ashamed to write it here within these pages. But I am not afraid of the monster that hunts these streets for my kind. Nor am I afraid of what his kind will do if they find us. I am afraid only of a life without love — without him. For how dull the world was before, how without light it was to me then. Tomorrow I shall write from another place; a place of hope and love and light, where my love stands beside me.

Where we are free.

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