The Enchanted Sonata

by Heather Dixon Wallwork

Lights chords, staccato piano, or pizzicato strings, could lighten the heart. Minor, legato melodies could depress and darken one’s soul. Music, he thought, had such power.

Imperia was, in fact, his greatest joy...and his greatest agony.

though she became less and less frightened each time he banged his head against the ceiling beams.

hehe

“The fairies don’t make mistakes,” the nutcracker said firmly. “They make no sense at all, but they don’t make mistakes.”

“Music is a sort of magic anyway, isn’t it? You can sing a baby to sleep, or wake them up again with song. You hear music, and it makes you want to dance. It’s already a bit magic.”

Her father would stroke the keys at their grand piano, conjuring songs so light and brilliant they almost made the room brighter. If Illumination Sonatina sounded like anything, it would be that.

“I don’t even know who he is. I haven’t even become Emperor yet. But he hates me, Clara. I saw it in his eyes. They’re like glass that’s been shattered and warped by too much heat. And it’s his anger that worries me. Much more than his magic. That anger reminds me of me.”

He was, in fact, the song she had composed on the spinet. Brave. Noble. Kind.

“Music is interesting, isn’t it?” the magician said. “Gently played, it can soothe one’s soul. It can rouse one to fight in a battle; it can conjure memories of those lost. I could even make someone fall in love with you. Or plunge you into the depths of despair.”

“You can’t dwell on it,” he said. “It will eat you inside, like a rat. Always hungry, always angry, and it will devour every good bit of you. Rats got your family, Boris. Don’t let them get you, too.”

“I don’t know,” the Emperor said, “why anyone must suffer misfortunes, Nikolai. But I do know that in the face of bitterness and disappointment, when our souls cry out in despair and anger, that we might fight it. As we fight everything in this life—with nobility, courage, and grace.

“Such a thing, Miss Stahlbaum. For when the world was darkest, I remembered you.”

“It is because your music is a balm,” he said quietly. “You feel it in your heart. Practice every day, maus, and it will be such a great light to so many.”

“Wouldn’t have done that around anyone but you, Clara,”

You fool