Chapter Four: Waterfall of the Unspoken
Part Two – She Sang the Cliff Awake
Location: Forbidden Pulsefall Glade – Beneath the Curve
Selka didn't speak when she stepped deeper into the stone-lined basin.
She didn't need to.
Because the water folded around her ankles like it had been waiting.
Zephryn stood behind her, glyph warm against his skin—not hot, not flaring.
Just ready.
The mark wasn't cast.
It was called.
And the cliff?
The cliff began to hum.
Not out loud.
Through bone.
Through breath.
Through something older than both of them.
—
Selka's hand trembled as she reached for the pulseburned sigil again.
But this time, her fingers didn't touch stone.
They passed through it.
Like memory—not matter—held it there.
Her pulse threaded backward. Not through time.
Through truth.
She whispered:
"She carved this with a song."
Zephryn stepped beside her.
"How?"
"Not a song with words."
Selka's eyes shimmered as the glyph reacted to her breath.
"A song with memory."
—
The Veil around the cliff edge shimmered.
Color bled from the Pulsefall—red, blue, violet, then crystal.
For a second—
The shape of a woman appeared in the water's curve.
Not solid.
Not ghost.
An echo.
Long hair caught mid-sway.
Eyes closed.
Glyph at her wrist spiraling like infinity drawn in grief.
Solara.
—
Zephryn's knees nearly gave out.
Selka caught his wrist.
The glyph between them locked.
∞ snapped into a mirrored loop.
And for a breath—
The Pulsefall stilled.
Selka spoke, barely a breath:
"She didn't cast to survive."
Zephryn finished it.
"She cast to be remembered."
And the cliff behind them sang.
Not loud.
But clearly.
Like a name returning from the place between.