The Silent: Irin Chronicles Book Five(11)

Chapter Three





Kyra repeated the spell for the third time, and the kareshta in front of her echoed it. She felt a surge of raw power in the room. Intira—the young kareshta she met first—was present, as were three others. Bun Ma and Kanchana were repeating the words along with Intira, and the other sister was staring out the window. The woman, nearly forty according to Niran, had suffered much abuse at the hands of their father. Prija appeared to be in her late teens, but her eyes were far older.

Niran had told her there might not be much hope for Prija. She rarely spoke and was prone to rages. But Kyra could feel the barely contained magic within Prija. If she was ever able to break out of her shell, she would be formidable. So Kyra encouraged the sisters to bring Prija to lessons even though most were skeptical.

“Breathe in,” Kyra said softly. “And out. Now that you have the spell, try saying it in your mind.” Intira translated Kyra’s words. “Imagine a door at the end of a long hallway. The voices you hear are coming from the rooms off the hallway.”

It had been a challenge to convince Niran to cooperate. He was accustomed to keeping himself and his brothers away from their sisters. To purposely expose them to the soul voices of the Grigori at the temple took some convincing.

“Keep backing away,” Kyra said. “Back and back until the voices aren’t all around you anymore. They’re only coming from the one open door at the end of the hall.”

She forced herself to remain open and walk through the steps with her students, though much of this meditation was automatic for her. The voices of the Grigori outside were muted and far more gentle than she was accustomed to. Niran had still not shared their secret to self-control with Kyra, but she would not stop teaching his sisters even though Sirius was becoming impatient.

She’d been in Thailand for nearly three weeks, and Sirius had been bearing the brunt of Kostas’s anger.

“All the voices are coming from the door now,” Kyra said. “So many voices. But you’re pushing them farther and farther away. They’re crowded together now.”

She heard Bun Ma suck in a sharp breath.

“Repeat your mantra,” Kyra said. “Emetsam tarrea. Ya emetsam tarrea. Don’t worry about the longer spell. Focus on this one.”

The breathing in the room evened out again.

“See the door at the end of the hall. Reach out and close it. Hold it with your hand if you need to. Close the door and say, ‘Domem.’”

“Domem,” they said together.

Still.

Still.

“Domem livah,” Kyra said, and her sisters repeated. “Domem livah.”

“Domem manah.”

“Domem manah.”

Still the mind.

Still the soul.

Still the heart.

Livah was a word in the Old Language that encompassed all three. It was the center of oneself in a spiritual sense, as manah was the holistic body. Kyra was slowly learning much of the language that had shaped her thoughts, though she hadn’t understood it for most of her life. The Old Language was the angelic tongue. The voices of the soul in humanity. There were accents and variations, but beyond superficial differences, every human and angelic soul spoke the same language. It was universal. A spell spoken by kareshta or Irina worked the same, though Irina were stingy with the knowledge of more powerful magic.

It was fine, Kyra told herself over and over. Shielding would allow her sisters to live. To exist as more than shadows.

Finding true power was for others who would come after her, those who had more years left. Those like Intira and Bun Ma.

The magic in the room pressed close and settled in each woman like a warm flame. Kyra felt her livah shining bright and whole in her mind’s eye. She opened her physical eyes and saw Prija staring at her. Her gold eyes flickered as if there were a fire burning behind them.

“Prija,” Kyra said calmly. “Domem.”

The fire flickered brighter.

“Domem, Prija.”

The other women were aware now, watching Kyra with wary eyes.

Kyra felt the mental punch a second before she shouted, “Zi yada!”

Prija fell over unconscious as Kyra’s nose gushed with blood. Intira held a hand towel out to Kyra as Kanchana and Bun Ma rushed to their unconscious sister.

Bun Ma spoke quietly as Kanchana rolled Prija to her side and put a blanket under her head. If the previous three weeks were any indication, the woman would sleep for several hours, then wake and continue on as if nothing had happened. Kyra didn’t know if she was getting through at all. She just hoped.

“Bun Ma said that our sister lasted much longer this time,” Intira said.

“She did.” Kyra pressed the cloth to her nose and pinched the bridge. “Progress.”

“Why do you let Prija come every day when she makes you bleed?” Intira asked.

“Does she want to be here?”

“Kanchana says she does,” Intira said.

“Then she may come,” Kyra said. “As long as she wants to attend, she is welcome. I can defend myself.”

“Her rages are getting better.”

“Then something is getting through.” Kyra patted Intira’s hand even though the girl flinched. “We will keep working.”

Intira rubbed her hand where Kyra had touched her. She wasn’t offended, just startled.