Meridian Gravesight's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

By dawn the field behind the church was crowded. Meridian counted eleven new spirits before breakfast, drifting between the broken stones. Luna had played the ground quiet six times over, and each patch of settled earth looked the same as any other. Grass. Dirt. A few old markers no one could read anymore. Meridian pressed her jaw and walked the field twice. Her teeth ached in two places at once. She could not tell if the ache meant a fresh spirit needed placing, or if she was standing on top of one already buried. She knelt and pushed her fingers into the soil. Nothing marked it. No stone, no stake, no name. If she guided the next spirit down here, it might sink into ground already holding another. Two souls tangled in one plot. She had done worse before, and the girl had walked three more years for it. Luna came out of the church with the guitar slung on her back. "You look like you swallowed a wasp." "I can't tell them apart. The graves." "Then mark them." "With what. A priest blesses stones. I don't have a priest." Luna spat into the grass. "You have me. And you have her." A blonde woman stood at the church door with a bass slung low. Riley Thorne. Meridian had seen her the night before, watching from the back of the nave while Luna played, saying nothing. Luna had called her a friend from the road. Meridian had not asked more. Riley walked out. "Luna says you need markers." "I need something the ground will remember." Riley shrugged the bass around and thumbed a low string. The note hit Meridian in the chest, not the ears. A dry seed pod on the grass jumped. "Bass carries in dirt," Riley said. "Deeper than voice. You want a mark under the ground, I can put one there." Meridian's teeth pulsed. "Show me." They went to a patch Luna had settled the day before. Riley planted her boots and struck one long note, holding it. The dirt hummed under Meridian's palm. When Riley cut the note, the hum stayed. A soft pressure, a fingerprint in the soil only Meridian's teeth could read. She moved three steps left. The pressure faded. She stepped back. It returned, exact. "How long does it hold?" "Long as the ground stays undisturbed." They worked until noon. Riley walked the field and printed each settled grave with one long note. Luna followed and played the new spirits down. Meridian moved between them, teeth quiet where the graves were marked, sharp where the ground was still open. By dusk every claimed patch hummed under her palm. She could bring the next spirit in without fear of doubling. Then a farmer came up the hill with three others behind him. He pointed at the humming field. "Whatever you're doing here, my cows won't cross the road. And my well's gone bitter."