Chapter 9
The Bukavach
Voran stood at the place where it had all begun, between the two drum-hills—one crowned in aspen, the other in birch. Here, Voran had first met Lyna, had first walked the perilous nether-space of the Lows of Aer, had first felt the fire of love for the Heights that he thought would last forever. Here, he hoped to see a door, an intersection of worlds, a way to speak to Lyna the Sirin, his soul-bond. But the Lows of Aer were shut to him. There was nothing, not the slightest note of the ineffable music of the other realms.
An ache rose inside him, inscribing a fire-rimmed hole in his chest. Lyna’s crying face occluded all other memories. He had neglected that love; he had not spoken to Lyna in years. Would she ever speak to him again? He had to try to reach her, now
