Chapter 47: The Song’s Purpose

DEVI LISTENED WITHOUT interrupting.

When Denna finished explaining—about Cinder’s plan, about the channel, about Renere—Devi sat back and closed her eyes.

“It’s worse than I thought,” she said finally.

“Worse how?”

“The channel isn’t just a metaphor. It’s literal.” Devi opened her eyes. “When the doors open, energy will be released—raw, primal, the power that was locked away when the world was sealed. That power needs somewhere to go.”

“Through Denna.”

“Through Ludis. Through the bridge between worlds.” Devi looked at Denna with something like pity. “If Cinder’s ritual works, all that energy will flow through you. He’ll use you like a lens, focusing it into himself.”

“And I’ll die.”

“You’ll be destroyed. Unmade. Every part of you that exists in either world will be consumed by the transfer.” Devi’s voice was gentle. “I don’t know if that counts as death. But you won’t exist afterward.”

Denna was quiet. I wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but she held herself apart.

“Then we stop the ritual,” I said. “We prevent the doors from opening.”

“The doors are already opening.” Devi stood, walked to her window. “The conceptual seal is failing. Your counter-song helped—it slowed the damage—but it didn’t stop it. And the other seals…” She shook her head. “Someone has been attacking them systematically for months. Physical keys stolen. Magical bindings weakened. By now, only two or three seals still hold.”

“Which ones?”

“The conceptual seal, barely. One of the magical bindings, maybe. And…”

“And what?”

“The naming seal.” Devi turned to face us. “The one that requires seven Namers to break. That’s the strongest—the one that was built to hold even if everything else failed.”

“Then we reinforce it.”

“With what? There aren’t seven Namers left in the world who know the proper names. There might not be one.” She laughed bitterly. “The Amyr spent centuries trying to maintain that seal. They’re all dead or scattered. The knowledge is lost.”

“Not all of it.” I thought of the book I’d read in the hidden library. “I know what names are needed. Stone, iron, silence, shadow, fire, wind, and will.”

“Knowing what’s needed isn’t the same as being able to provide it.”

“I know wind. I’m learning silence.” I looked at Denna. “You’ve touched the moon’s name. The boundary between worlds.”

“That’s not one of the seven.”

“No, but it’s related. The moon is the bridge. If we can use that connection—”

“You’re grasping.” Devi’s voice was kind but firm. “I understand why, but you’re looking for solutions that don’t exist. Seven names, seven Namers—that’s what’s required. Anything less won’t work.”

“Then we find another way.”

“There isn’t one.”

“There’s always a way.” I stood abruptly. “You said Reta taught you about the doors. About counter-measures. She must have had contingency plans.”

“She did.” Devi hesitated. “But they all required resources we no longer have. The Archive texts. The Amyr network. The hidden libraries—”

“One of the hidden libraries still exists. Auri showed me.”

“Auri?” Devi’s eyes widened. “The moon-touched girl from the Underthing?”

“She’s not just moon-touched. She was a researcher. Before she broke.” I began pacing. “She knows paths through the Underthing that no one else has found. One of them led to a hidden library—books that survived the purges.”

“What did you find?”

“Explanations. Theories. But I only had time to read one book before we had to leave.” I stopped. “But there were others. Dozens. If we could get back there—”

“The woman who burned the Archives,” Denna said quietly. “She’s been trying to reach that library.”

We both looked at her.

“Cinder knew about it. He sent me there, before the burning. To find it, destroy it.” She hugged herself. “I couldn’t get through the seal. But he said he’d find another way.”

“Then we need to get there first.” I headed for the door. “Devi, gather whatever supplies you think we’ll need. Denna—”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Denna, if Cinder realizes you’re free—”

“Then he’ll come after me. Yes.” Her jaw was set. “But he’ll come after me anyway. At least if I’m with you, I might be useful.”

“You could get hurt. Killed.”

“I was going to be destroyed anyway. This way, at least I choose how it happens.” She met my eyes. “You gave me back my will, Kvothe. Let me use it.”

The Underthing was different now.

The passages felt thinner, less substantial. Shadows moved in ways they shouldn’t. And everywhere, that faint music—the song of the doors, calling to whatever waited on the other side.

“It’s getting worse,” Auri said, leading us through corridors I’d never seen. “Every day, more of the old places wake up. More of the sealed things start to stir.”

“Can you still find the library?”

“I can find anything down here.” She glanced back at us—at Denna, specifically. “You’re the one from the moon.”

Denna blinked. “I… yes, I suppose I am.”

“You feel different. Lighter than before.” Auri tilted her head. “Someone untied some of your knots.”

“Kvothe did.”

“Good. The knots were wrong. They made you sad.” Auri resumed walking. “Being sad is acceptable sometimes. Being made sad is never acceptable.”

We walked in silence after that.

The passage to the hidden library was exactly as I remembered—a dead end that wasn’t, a wall that yielded to the right touch. Auri placed her palm against the stone, murmured in that ancient language.

This time, the wall barely responded. The shimmer was weaker. The passage it revealed was narrower.

“The seal is failing here too,” Auri whispered. “Soon it won’t open at all. Or it won’t close.”

“Then we’d better hurry.”

We stepped through.

The library was in chaos.

Shelves overturned. Books scattered across the floor. And standing in the center of the room, examining a volume I recognized—the examination of the seven seals—was a figure in a grey cloak.

She turned when we entered.

It wasn’t Denna. Not anymore. This was someone older, harder, with eyes that held ancient knowledge and ancient hate.

“Cinder,” Devi breathed.

“A piece of Cinder.” The figure smiled with a mouth that wasn’t quite human. “Enough to handle you. Enough to finish what should have been done years ago.”

“The seal should have kept you out.”

“The seal recognized the marks she carries.” The figure gestured at Denna. “Your friend has been here before, at my command. The door remembers. Seals fail. Everything fails.” The figure looked at Denna. “Ah. My wayward instrument. I felt you slip free, but I assumed…” A cold laugh. “Well. It doesn’t matter. You’ll serve your purpose regardless. Willingly or not.”

“I won’t help you.”

“You won’t have a choice.” The figure began walking toward us. “The channel isn’t about will. It’s about nature. You are what you are, Ludis. No binding or unbinding changes that.”

“Then why did you bind her at all?” I stepped forward. “If her nature was enough—”

“Because I needed her compliant. Helpful. Present at the right place at the right time.” The figure stopped. “Speaking of which—you’ve saved me considerable trouble. All three of you, in one place. The Namer, the Bridge, and the Keeper’s heir.” A gesture at Devi. “This will be much simpler than I’d planned.”

I reached for the name of the wind.

Found nothing.

“Oh, no.” The figure’s smile widened. “Not here. This place is sealed against naming. The old scholars made sure of that.” A step closer. “You’re just a boy, Kvothe. Clever, talented, but ultimately just a boy. Did you really think you could stop what three thousand years have set in motion?”

“I think I can try.”

“Then try.” The figure spread its arms. “Show me what you can do without your names, without your magic, without any of the tools you depend on.”

I had no answer.

Then Denna began to sing.

It wasn’t her song. Not the one she’d been spreading across the Four Corners.

It was something else. Something older. Something that resonated with the hidden library’s ancient walls.

Here stands what falls not, she sang. Here waits what moves not. Here sleeps what wakes not, till the song is done.

The figure’s smile faltered.

“What are you doing?”

The sealing song, Denna continued. The words that close the doors. The sound that locks the ways.

“You can’t know that song. I never taught you—”

“You showed me everything, Cinder.” Her voice was cold. “Every piece of the ritual. Every word you needed me to sing. Did you think I wasn’t paying attention?”

The figure’s form began to waver. The ancient words worked against it—against whatever part of Cinder it carried.

Go back, Denna sang. Return to the silence. Return to the shadow. Return to the place between places.

With a scream that wasn’t quite sound, the figure dissolved. The grey cloak fell empty to the floor.

Denna’s voice faded.

“That won’t stop him,” she said quietly. “That was just a fragment. A puppet.”

“But you hurt it. You knew how.”

“I know everything he knows.” She looked at me with haunted eyes. “Every secret. Every plan. Every horror he’s committed over three thousand years. It’s all in my head now. I just couldn’t access it while the binding held.”

“Then you know how to stop the ritual.”

“I know what the ritual requires. I know where it will happen. I know when.” She picked up the book the figure had been examining. “And I know what we need.”

“Which is?”

“Seven names. Seven Namers.” She held up the book. “This text describes an alternative. A way to create a naming seal with fewer people—maybe even one—if they’re connected to all seven names through… other means.”

“Other means?”

“Blood. Sacrifice. Shared essence.” She looked at me steadily. “If someone who touched all seven names gave themselves to the sealing…”

“They could close the doors alone.”

“They could close them permanently. Make it so the doors could never be opened again.” Her voice was soft. “It would cost everything. But it would work.”

“Denna…”

“Not me.” She shook her head. “I’m the bridge, remember? I touch all worlds, but I’m not rooted in any of them. The sacrifice has to come from someone who belongs here. Someone who knows the names.”

I understood what she wasn’t saying.

“You’re talking about me.”

“I’m talking about the only option we might have left.” She put the book in my hands. “Read it, Kvothe. Understand what it means. And then…”

“And then decide whether I’m willing to die to save the world.”

“Yes.” Her eyes were wet. “And hope there’s another way. Because I didn’t break free just to watch you sacrifice yourself.”