“This is odd, the silence. I’d expect to hear wind, birds, the grass rustling, but nothing. There’s no noise whatsoever,” Mr. Shade observed. His voice nearly echoed in the void.

“I don’t know,” Magie said but her breath was cut short as a pillar of amber light engulfed her.

It carried her up, farther, into the sky. The ground raced away and she could see conch shaped clouds but the view was shattered and distorted somehow. Splintered sunsets of orange and violet: very much plural. A refracted set of many skies as if viewed through a craggy crystal.

She passed through a black metal bridge with ruby stain glass rails and some manner of force field as a ceiling. The light vanished, leaving her on top. A cross-section, extending out three directions into golden glass geodesic domes. The warm air brushed her face but silence prevailed. A wind without whistle, breeze without breath.

“The oddness envelops. I’m not sensing any immediate danger though. Any idea where we are?” Mr. Shade asked. His shadow flowed long but flickering in the confused light.

“This does seem familiar but I can’t place it. We might as well forge ahead. One which way is as good as the others, I suppose,” Magie said, heading where her feet took her. No clanks nor footsteps rang out from the bridge. An unusual equivalence; she had left one palace of silence for another.

The magnetic blaze broiled in her skin. Soon it would surge. The last shard had healed her but she needed to locate Leathenbelle with all haste, lest she befall the same fate as before.

Magie was met with a bubble, a viscous film at the gate of the dome. It shimmered a drizzle of rainbows as she neared, sliding with the light off her eyes. Her hand slipped through with no ill effect. She decided to carry on.

As her ears passed the barrier, a booming song instantly became apparent. Such wondrous melody and amalgamation of voices that had been completely shut out prior. A hymn without words, it filled her head.

Then came the roaring of drums! A factory. Sirens sang and their tune was pounded into solid stone. An assembly line of chimes, metal pipes and woodwind orifices. The majestic blue vibrating material created was hauled off on carts to be shipped somewhere or other. Off to the sides, flasks were filled with song and corked to keep fresh the tune. Birds were found, many and of many varieties and colors as well. They perched on a metal willow with stain glass leaves, chirping merrily. Everything revolved around song.

“Of course, a songsmithy! This is where sirens produced the bricks of Leathenbelle and other melodious wonders!” Magie beamed.

All at once the songs were cut short and the workers turned to shush her; their fingers on their mouths. All present were women as true of their race.

“Terribly sorry but would you ladies know a swift passage to Leathenbelle?” Magie asked.

​

-The Gatekeeper