Commune with the mist is what the sign said. In giant painted letters on the giant birch-wood sign above the secondary temple. Everyday it gets re-painted by the xylephite congregation, as a form of penance and worship. It is a great honour to be a painter, they say.
The secondary temple sits on the outskirts of The Beating Birch. The single sovereign city of the Coral Plain. It is home to its namesake, the Beating Birch. A tree so vast that the entire megapolis sits within its branches and among its roots. A tree so old that all culture and history of this region was formed in its shadows. A tree home to the spirit that nourishes, warms, enlightens and educates a civilisation. The spirit has no name, but sings. It creates a harmony and a beauty that floods the world and when the people of the Beating Birch sing back, they flourish.
And so it has been for eons. The Birch provides when the people sing. And so the people sing, and mimic the sounds they hear to gain favour from the spirits. There is no music in this world, only the constant flowing of sounds and noises that fill the air in an ever changing chorus.
As Kora stepped inside, she was greeted by the familiar sight of the temple’s interior. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings of birch trees and the air was thick with the scent of incense. Kora had been here many times before, as had everyone who lived beneath the first Great Branch, but today was different. Today, she was here to begin her training as a singer, one of the few chosen to commune with the spirit of the tree.
Kora had known from a young age that this was her destiny. Her family was from a long line of singers, and it was expected that she would follow in their footsteps. She had been preparing for this moment for as long as she could remember, but now that it was finally here, she couldn’t help feeling a sense of nervousness.
Despite her apprehension, Kora felt a deep reverence for the tree and its spirit. She had always felt a special connection to the Beating Birch, even before she knew about her family’s legacy. As a child, she would often wander through the city’s streets, gazing up at the towering branches above her and listening to the songs that emanated from them.
“Kora,” said Elder Eira, a kind-looking woman with gentle eyes. “We have been waiting for you. Are you ready to begin your training?”
Kora took a deep breath and nodded. She was determined to succeed, to prove herself worthy of the honour that had been bestowed upon her. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of doubt that lingered in the back of her mind. What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she failed?
Elder Eira seemed to sense Kora’s apprehension. “Do not worry, my child,” she said, placing a reassuring hand on Kora’s shoulder. “You have been chosen for a reason. You have the gift of song within you, and with our guidance, you will learn to harness it and use it to commune with the spirit of the tree.”
Kora felt a surge of hope at Elder Eira’s words, and she nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” she said softly.
The other elders gathered around her, and together they began to perform a ritual that would mark the beginning of Kora’s training. They placed a symbol on her forehead, a small tattoo of a birch leaf that signified her connection to the tree. Then, they draped a special garment over her shoulders, made from the finest silk and embroidered with images of the Beating Birch and its branches. Kora felt a sense of awe as she looked down at herself. This was a garment reserved only for the most gifted singers, and she felt honoured to wear it.
“Now, Kora,” said Elder Eira. “Close your eyes and listen. Listen to the songs of the tree. Let them fill you, and then sing back to the tree. Let your voice be an offering to the spirit.”
Kora took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She listened carefully, letting the sounds of the tree wash over her. It was a symphony of rustling leaves, creaking branches, and the gentle hum of the wind. She felt a sense of peace wash over her, and she opened her mouth to sing.
At first, her voice was hesitant, uncertain. But as she continued, she felt something shift within her. Her voice grew stronger, more confident, as if something deep within her had been unleashed.
When she finished, there was a moment of silence. Kora broke into an enormous smile as the last echoes of her voice bounced back from the temple walls. Elder Eira spoke. “You have a gift, Kora. We will help you to hone it, to use it to commune with the spirit of the tree. But know this – you are special. You have been chosen for a reason. Do not take this task lightly.”
Kora nodded again, more confidently this time. “I understand,” she said. “I will do my best to learn and to honour the spirit.”
But as she spoke, she couldn’t help but notice Elder Kai’s disapproving gaze. He was dressed in a flowing purple robe, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and shimmer in the light.
“Elder Kai?” Kora asked tentatively, noticing the elder’s stern expression. “Is there something wrong?”
Elder Kai sighed heavily. “Child, you must understand the importance of organic sounds. The spirit of the tree does not respond well to artificial noises. We need to connect with it on a primal level, through the natural sounds that surround us.”
Kora frowned, confused. “But I thought we were supposed to mimic the sounds we hear in order to gain the spirit’s favour?”
Elder Kai shook his head. “It’s not enough to simply mimic, my dear. We must create something new, something that resonates with the tree and with the earth itself. And to do that, we must use the sounds of the world around us, not the manufactured sounds of machines or technology.”
Elder Kai was referring to the noises machines, or epiclesis devices that are scattered throughout the city. Personal devices to try and gain personal favour with the Birch. Businesses will have them to bring good fortunes and happy customers. Hospitals will have them to promote wellbeing and good health. Schools have them to promote knowledge and just about everywhere you go in this city you will see them and hear them.
Kora felt a pang of disappointment as Elder Kai spoke. She had always admired the elder’s wisdom and experience, but his words made her feel like she had somehow failed. She knew that the use of instruments was frowned upon in their religion, as it was believed that the purest form of music came from the human voice alone. But Kora couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something missing, something that could elevate her singing to new heights. She made a mental note to explore this further, to try and find a way to incorporate other sounds into her performances without angering the spirit of the tree. For now, she would focus on her training and trust that the elders knew what was best for her and her people.
The Beating Birch 