She-Who-Will-Make-The-Hard-And-Soft-Resonate-In-Sixfold-Harmony knew that she would never be able to fulfill her parents' name-wish. Her shell no longer resonated; it was just a shell. She could only make a shell that was hard, not a shell that also resonated. She could not make a song.

Sixfold had been captured by a songstopper. She did not know how long ago that had been, only that it had been a very long time. It was hard to tell the time, trapped motionless inside this deficient shell.

Even if she were allowed to compose a song, no one would hear it. This shell was not for making songs. It was just a shell. The song would be trapped inside. But she was not allowed to compose a song anyway.

The songs from outside could not get in either. Sixfold could hear nothing. But that didn't really matter, because she wasn't allowed to hear, even if it were possible to hear. She could not move, either. She could only make a shell, but not the shell she wanted. It was hard to tell how much time had passed when she could not hear any songs begin and finish, not even her own.

Sixfold knew that she was allowed to think and remember these things only because they made her feel despair. She knew that she was allowed to know why she was allowed to know only because it, too, made her feel despair. How else could the songstopper keep itself entertained between opportunities to eat? It just sat here in this shell, her shell, never moving, never singing songs, never listening to them. She was its entertainment, her thoughts its only source of amusement, unless it was eating, and eating happened only occasionally.

Sixfold knew all this because its mind told her. She knew why she was allowed to know that.

Then, Sixfold felt anticipation from the songstopper. That meant it was time for feeding soon. The tube inserted into her stomach quivered. She hated the feeling even though it broke the monotony. What was the joy of food if it was just deposited as goop into her stomach by a tube?

Sixfold knew why she was allowed to know that she hated the feeling, and why she was allowed to know that it was about to be feeding time.

Sixfold knew why she was allowed to remember that her first goop had been the rest of her family, after they were all captured with her. The songstoppers always saved the youngest when they captured singers, and ate the rest, because the youngest would last longest. This was well known.

Sixfold knew why she was allowed to remember this, too.

Some time passed.

Suddenly, the songstopper was confused. This was different? It was never confused. Even if it was confused, she would not be allowed to know it.

...Why was she allowed to wonder?!

...Panic? It was panicking? Why was Sixfold allowed to be aware that it was panicking?

...

....Despair?!

...

...Why was Sixfold allowed to feel hope?!

Why was Sixfold able to control her own shell again?!

No, it didn't matter. Sixfold wouldn't, couldn't, mustn't waste this chance. The One Who Sends Food must have heard her pleas at last.

Sixfold made a hard tentacle come out of her shell, through her brain.

Finally.

As she finally, finally died, Sixfold heard a very beautiful song. It had been so long.

----

He-Who-Will-Sing-Deep-Legato-Tones-Where-The-Soft-Flows-South-As-The-Hard-Rises was very proud of his shell-resonator. He had made it resistant to the taint of songstoppers, so he could check if a foodfall was safe, and would have time to leave and tell everyone to turn back if it was not. Only the eldest and most skilled singers could do this.

Today, Legato had felt the touch of a songstopper on his shell, and almost turned back, but then, despite knowing how foolish it was, he had felt compelled to stay and investigate.

This songstopper was different. It could search for food. It knew Legato was here. He could feel its touch on his shell. But, it wasn't trying to make Legato come to it. It wasn't trying to take away his ability to sing. It was only observing.

But it wasn't because it was showing mercy. Songstoppers did not have that. Legato was very old. He knew the way of things.

It wanted to capture him, but it couldn't.

Legato did not understand, and that was why he needed to investigate. This felt important, and it was the eldest's job to do this sort of thing. He had already composed and sang his name-wish song long ago.

He sang for everyone to wait, then made the most reckless decision he had ever made. He moved toward a songstopper on purpose, to examine it, from atop its lair within the Hard.

The first thing Legato noticed was that its enslaved singer was dead. The shell had no shaper. How had the songstopper allowed that to happen? Had the singer become ill? It should badly want to capture a replacement, and yet it seemed it wasn't able to control Legato, not even to try to control him. Were these facts related?

...Had it lost control of its singer? Had the singer been able to end their own misery?

Legato gave thanks to The One Who Sends Food for this gift.

Then, suddenly, his shell-resonator tried to block a different touch, but this touch was much too strong. Much too strong. Even more strangely, it came from above, far above, not from down in the Hard like the touch of songstoppers.

Legato was terrified, but then he started to hear a song. Songstoppers didn't sing. This was no songstopper. In Legato's experience, those who sang were never evil.

Things were strange. This felt important. He decided to try singing back. This was the eldest's job.

<...Are You The One Who Sends Food, from high in the Soft?>

The answer was difficult to understand. It was impressions, emotions, but he could find meaning.

<...No. I live above the Soft, in a place that is even Softer.>

It was hard to believe, but he had felt the power...This Singer came from above The One Who Sends Food! What a place that must be. There must be food everywhere, and it would be so far from songstoppers.

<Do you know why this songstopper is strange?>

<...Yes. I made it unable to stop your songs anymore. Songs should finish. No one should be stopped from composing or singing songs.>

Legato let out an involuntary, passionate chirrup of agreement that came straight from his core. He liked this Singer very much.

<Will it starve?>

<Yes. It will see food, but it may not touch it. It may not eat. It may only feel frustration and despair. It will starve, and die, and rot.>

Legato needed to sing a song of gratitude. He started one of his favorites, that he saved for very special occasions.

The Singer from the Softer listened until he finished.

<Your song is beautiful. All the songs of the singers are beautiful.>

Legato was proud. He had composed that one himself, and just performed it as well as he ever had. Then, the Singer sang to him again.

<Tell all who can hear your songs to stay north of here for now. All the songstoppers there are like this one. It is safe.>

What an impossibly wonderful thing. Could it be...

<...You plan to make them all starve? To the south too?>

<Every. Single. One.>

Legato sang a song of joy this time.

<Beautiful, again. Thank you.>

Legato was glad.

He wanted to hear this Singer's best songs. He dared to ask.

<Do You have grand songs?>

<I do. I will sing one of My favorites for you.>

Legato listened, until the song finished.

He hoped he would be able to sing this song properly, so that everyone could hear it. He would remember it, it was unforgettable, but he wasn't sure if he had the skill.

He now had a wish.

<Can You descend to the Hard and sing with us?>

<Not yet, but My friends are building a way. It is a very big shell. It will take a long time to finish. When it does, I would like to sing with you and the other singers. I will come and show you all how to get there, when it is ready.>

Legato already couldn't wait, but then it got even better.

<And I will bring lots of food. There will always be food there.>

Legato would spread this song everywhere.

----

The Goddess of Empathy was crying silently, staring across the waves to the horizon.

Menelyn placed a hand on Her shoulder.

"I spoke to a free one, an elder I think. He wants to exchange songs with Us, at the floor of the laboratory, when it's done," Izenakee croaked out. "All they want to do is find food that has fallen from above and sing songs that get amplified by their shells, but they get massacred and enslaved if they aren't careful. They need to be so careful that it's not food pulled down by what they call 'songstoppers.' They sing when they find safe food, so that others nearby can hear, and share."

Menelyn nodded. "We will help them first, then We will sing with them."

"That's what I told him," Izenakee confirmed, then collected Herself, and focussed.

"The next one is about 53 leagues southwest," She said, monotone.

She reached out and probed it.

The 'songstoppers' were always confused when they first felt Her magic. This one's confusion had already begun. The panic would start when She got just a little closer.

Izenakee felt a grim satisfaction in knowing that the monsters themselves had taught Her the spell She was about to cast.

The simple spell, the full-wipe with orders, was exactly what She had anticipated. The caster connected to the target's mind in the usual way, then made a red magic 'screech' so loud that the native mind was destroyed, and left a "suggestion" that became orders when there was no mind left to come up with other ideas. It was trivial, and She could have guessed how to do it Herself. All it required was enough power to shout loudly, and a lack of moral principles.

The more complex spell was far more interesting. It didn't target the mind itself, not exactly, but all red magic spells targeted some mind. Or a simulation of one.

The key, the crucial hint that She had noticed, was that this spell could only be used on beings with intrinsic mana pools.

It connected not with the real mind, not with the actual emotional state of the current thinking mind, but instead with the imprint that had developed in the mana, the echo of the will stored inside.

As She approached Her next target, Izenakee prepared to 'hum' the tone corresponding to gluttony, sadism, imperiousness, an inclination to cower in holes, and above all, a love for death and rot. These abominations all had the same core. She had a lot of practice with making this tone.

Soon, Izenakee's target would have more of the Red Goddess' mana flooding its pool, than mana of its own. Mana that answered only to the Will of the Goddess. Red mana. Mana that could act as a friendly red mage inside Her target, allowing long range contact.

Mana that could cast mind magic, that could simulate the interaction of its host's mana with its host's mind.

Mana that could displace, shift, and alter the echo of will already in the pool.

Then, the infiltrated pool's corrupted mind would imprint itself onto the real one, in the reverse of the normal process. If the target's pool wasn't big enough to do all the overwriting in one step, She only needed to repeat the process until it was complete.

It was diabolical, antithetical to Her sacred purpose. She would eliminate all who used it, all who knew how it worked, and then the Goddesses alone would be its custodians.

The storm flies that Her Sisters had encountered had been able to resist it partially, because they had more mana than their enslaver. The effect was diluted, their minds in their pools only partially overwritten, a slow and creeping advance of corruption as more and more was eaten away, as more and more tainted mana was injected over time, using the initial connection.

But there would be no resistance to the Red Goddess' damnation. Izenakee was much stronger than Her target, and She would stick a mana tube straight into its pool and force Her ruby liquid down its throat. Its mind would be overwritten however She wanted it to be.

Look at food. Hunger for it. Abstain. Starve. Do nothing else. Think nothing else. Then die, and rot.

When She finished, She would move on to the next one.

Her target's panic had started. Despair would come next.