Who'll Hear the Echoes of Stories Never Told?

Inky had done this plenty, while training. Trying to manifest her own feelings in song, to bring better harmony between herself and her allies. It had never been easy, especially as Inky had been just learning the flute. Sometimes the approximation her fingers and breath would allow didn’t quite measure up to what she imagined hearing, missing little embellishments or tripping between phrases instead of flowing smoothly.

This was different. She shaped her mouth as easily as breathing, and placed her lips correctly even with her eyes closed, and breathed in…

She lowered her flute to her lap. “I can’t,” she admitted, shoulders hunched. “I don’t think you’re getting old, gramps. I think there’s nothing to hear.”

In the wake of Living Memory, Inky struggles to come to terms with what she's done, and who or what that makes her. Unable to face those closest to her heart but driven to a breaking point when her oldest soul crystal shatters, Inky finally begins to seek some help from old allies and new friends.