Blake sat, legs crossed beneath her, on a mosaic floor. She recognized the floor, though it had taken her a moment - it was the floor of the church-like building Obsidian had produced for the team back when everyone had begun training their magic. When she'd dueled with Crono without the use of her Aura and learned to wield her shadow like a second skin.

The reason she didn't recognize it immediately was that only the floor existed, now. The walls and the ceiling had been consumed by an oozing shadow that dripped from the ceiling and crawled upwards along the walls. She couldn't explain how she saw its movement - there was no contrast between the shifting parts and the infinite blackness behind them, but she was aware of the movement all the same... and, she observed, it wasn't fair to say only the floor remained. A single stained glass window sat, perched silently on the shadowy walls, and through it she could see the twinkling of distant stars.

"Okay. I'm ready. What do I need to do?"

Do you recall the means by which you comprehend Cielan language?

She frowned, stretching her memory back. "You said... I was emulating the Flame. That it embodies Communication, and so did I. Is Communication a concept I can wield, magically?"

Not without practice. But it is not necessary to do so.

Her eyebrows raised, then furrowed as she considered that. "So... in that case, I'm going to use what's already there? Sort of... lend my own abilities to the others?"

Correct. Your insight has grown.

She smiled. "I've picked up some things. So... will this be like the other spell you taught me?"

Yes.

She took a moment to breathe, letting the smile fade to a soft quirk of her lips as she closed her eyes and meditated. She trusted Obsidian to guide her where she needed to be, to learn this.

To provide the others with Communication, you need only provide them with your self. This you already do – thus, the connection need only be strengthened.

She felt something nudging at her Aura, and she followed the sensation – without thinking, her hands closed around Shroud and Veil, suddenly present in her lap. There, at the edges of her soul, she could almost feel something, the sensation like when she held her hand close to something electrical and felt her hairs shifting.

Shadow is the element that both binds and separates. The gulf between you and the others, yet also the substance that bridges it. Feel the gulf around your self - and feel where it is thin. Where you touch upon your allies, and they you.

Her eyes fluttered behind her eyelids as she focused so tightly on those pinpricks against her soul. She could envision them – her soul, alight with dark color, swimming in an empty void, yet with impossibly thin strings that stretched out blindly into that darkness.

Now listen to them sing.

For a moment, she was confused... but she held the faith. And a moment later, she understood.

Because one of the strings shook, twitching and vibrating with a tone that she couldn't describe. Warmth? Drive...?

Her lips moved. "Yang," she whispered absent-mindedly.

Fire is the element most in tune with life – and it is life that blossoms into communication. Fire, like life, is motion. Feel that motion within your soul, and comprehend its warmth.

She sat there, in the dark room, drifting in the sea of her soul. She felt each minute, rhythmic pluck of the string that bound them, and the warmth that traveled along it with each beat. Much of that warmth was wasted, bleeding away into the void between them – but not all of it.

Bit by bit, piece by piece, she captured it. She let it weave itself into her own shadows.

Then, another of the strings began to vibrate, and she turned her attention to it. This one... the motions were rigid. Feels... exact.

She smiled, very slightly. "Weiss."

Ice is a lock. It protects what is, and refutes change. It closes itself in frost – but even as it does so, it reaches out for warmth. Feel it beckon you, seeking to be released, and follow its call.

She could feel it. Where the other string had given to her, this one... this one was different. It was hers to reach for, and so she did. She gently wrapped the weave of warm shadows along that strand and felt them be slowly but doggedly pulled and tugged out of her awareness. Little by little, that tiny strand was encased in a part of her, thickening and strengthening. As it did, its tone changed – suddenly, it was... welcoming? Supportive?

When the third string twitched, she realized something all at once – it had always been at the edge of her awareness, but so soft and subtle that she hadn't noticed it. She could feel it pushing and pulling at her in time with her own breathing, and for a moment she was puzzled.

Then it rang out with a tiny note of joy, and she couldn't help but smile. "Penny."

Penny requires no aid. You are the Arbiter... and she is my daughter. You have come to emulate the Flame, and she was born from it. Yet, for all that you are linked through me, you are linked yourselves as well.

For a moment, she let herself bask in the innocence of that connection. She almost felt Penny's own awareness of their connection, and briefly wondered if the gynoid had ever meditated like this.

Then the last string tugged at her, and she shifted once again. This one was easy. It vibrated constantly, sometimes more and sometimes less but never stopping. It hummed with energy and hope.

"Ruby," she breathed.

Lightning is energy, always building until its peak. Then, at its perfect moment, it crashes forth without restraint, incapable of ceasing until it is finished. Feel it rise and fall, and anticipate its moment.

She couldn't have quantified how long she spent sitting there, drifting back and forth with the motion of that string. She found herself almost humming, sub-vocalizing a tone that matched the ebb and flow of that energy that touched her soul. But, regardless of how long, she felt it.

And when that string suddenly jolted, plucking a brilliant note that resonated through her, she caught that power and let it cascade around her, vibrating through her shadows and the other strings that bound her soul.

For a moment, all her connections played the same note in harmony.

Her eyes drifted open, and she felt... light. Airy.

"I thought... you were teaching me a spell?" She licked her lips, smiling despite her confusion.

A more effective path was determined.

"Did it work?"

Yes.

She tilted her head back, staring out the stained window into the starry void. "Then thank you, Obsidian."

You are welcomed.

Blake's Soulsong (Moderate) has advanced to Soulsong (Major). Blake has become aware of the existence of Soulsong, and much of its nature.

Thaumoglot can now be shared by anyone with Soulsong at will.

A/N: I'm a bit busy preparing to move across town due to various circumstances, so I have a little less time to write (on top of still being down a computer); apologies for delays. I'll have the other half of this chapter out as soon as possible.