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“It sounds like a song,” I say, a strange ache blooming beneath my ribs. “Does it mean anything?”

Lyxander takes a moment before he answers, something I’m learning to expect from him.

“A sanctuary of sky and stone.” He stares out at the city, a distant look lingering in his eyes. Then he turns toward the trail. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

I reluctantly pull my gaze away and catch up with him, my mind whirling with questions.

The path widens again, the flat expanse curving before us. Aerilos sprawls beneath the ridge, but it’s what rises above the city that steals my attention now.

Thin, twisting structures pierce the sky like pale, petrified reeds, their ghostlike forms bending as though frozen mid-motion. The sunlight plays along their translucent curves, and the air around them hums. There are ten in total, spaced out along the ridge, all varying heights and widths.

“Wind harps,” Lyxander says, gesturing toward the spires along the curving peak. “They’re older than anyone alive can remember.”

“They don’t look like harps.” I tilt my head. Beneath my ribs, my theïkós stirs, growing more restless the longer I stare at the whorled shapes.

“Do you know how to play?”

I hesitate. I learned from the royal tutors during my childhood and continued my lessons with Calliope after. But is that a skill he would expect an average Songbird to have?

The truth hovers on the tip of my tongue, a confession waiting to spill out. I could tell him now—about the palace, the tutors, my life before the Aviary sunk its talons into me. After everything he has entrusted me with here, perhaps I should. But something holds me back.

“A little,” I say finally, the words feeling thin and hollow as they leave my mouth. “It’s been a while.”

“Playing these will be different. The harps hold the song; each is tuned to different notes.”

I eye the structures skeptically. “How is it done?”

“You’ll need to guide the wind through the center of the structures. A constant stream will hold the note; a short gust will pluck it. You’ve practiced with ash and parchment, but this will demand more.”

The air stills at his words, responding to the spark of anticipation that ignites within me. Still, I hesitate. “They’re how old, exactly?”

“Older than memory. But they’ve weathered worse storms than you.”

“Comforting. Fine. Just don’t complain if I shatter one of your precious harps.”

I draw in a sharp breath, and my theïkós rises, a quiet hum waiting to be shaped into motion. I don’t rush it. I listen. The stillness trembles, an imperceptible ripple, as I coax the wind forward.

The first harp eludes me, the air twisting and slipping through my grasp. My palms shift, tracing invisible currents as I work to find balance, to channel force without fracturing it. Then, the harp exhales a low, resonant note.

The sound deepens, unfurling into something richer as I urge the winds to flow through the next harp, and the next. A haunting harmony begins to rise, each held note reverberating deep within my chest, and my theïkós hums along with it.

But the third harp falters. The surrounding wind grows chaotic, curling back on itself in sharp, biting bursts. I reach out, trying to steady it, but the currents evade my control, scattering notes into discordant fragments.

My concentration wavers, and the sound collapses into silence.

Breathe.

Slowly, I adjust, tuning the pull of my theïkós, the rhythm of my movements. It takes longer this time, but the closest harp responds again, its note tentative at first, then steady as the harmony rebuilds. Drawing deeper from my source, I reach for the second, followed by the third, and soon, the fourth.

My eyes fall shut and I stretch my power toward the fifth, but something shifts, a flicker in the wind at the edge of my awareness.

Daughter.

The word is faint, but it lands like a physical blow. My focus unravels as my attention falters. My eyes snap open, the harmony splintering as the wind slips through my grasp entirely.

The silence that follows is heavy, almost accusatory.

“Almost,” Lyxander says. “What distracted you, little bird?”