The song was within him since he remembered. Sometimes whispering in his head, at night, when he couldn't sleep, torn by so vivid memory of Emperor SkekSo, hitting him with the scepter... then, the few tunes were falling on him, making him close his eyes and huff with relief. That memory was insistent and cruel, almost as cruel as the age consuming his body... but not even the age made him forget that one moment which made him almost mute. He was not happy. At all. He felt himself as he lost something from the beginning, only proud from being a skeksis and being good with numbers.
These tunes were his good spirits, making him forget.
When he was observing the podling choir, directed by SkekEkt and SkekZok, the two skeksis which held two completely different personalities yet they worked synched so perfectly - he was catching how rude the music was and how he could make much better melodies and even words, if someone allowed him. He was feeling that he could crash the podlings under his feet and stand there, victorious, singing... just as in his "another life", in his Uskek life, SilSol was making music to enchant other Urskeks, take them by surprise with its beauty, to later let it fall on them with shocking terror of intensity of the sounds. SkekSil could remember, too, he wondered how much he remembers from his own life's music.
He was not musical as Urskek but now he felt he could even surpass SilSol.
This song, this very one which resided in his chest, would be his "relief song". He would "come out from the box". He would be understood by the others...
While he was passing the bleak corridors in silence, the small parts of the tune were escaping him, floating around him like hurt butterflies, to which someone sticked a pin. They were inside of him too, wanting to release, to get through his throat and make the castle shake in its foundations...
These were his dreams.
But he knew that this one hit made by SkekSo made him almost unable to fix a word. And he can live through his music only in his heart and soul, the same very soul the sentient races of Thra doubted to exist in the skeksis...
Even, if his fellows will never know about his inner song, the song knew about them and was offering itself to them, if they ever approach him, to understand. He felt less abandoned when his soul was singing.
He was remembering the words from the Counselor SkekKel, when he needed an advice and seeked it in him.
"Never think that you are less. You are more. If you think inside that you are. None of us, skeksis are less. We are Lords, everywhere, in everything."
He exposed himself then, to a skeksis, who held no real bond with him but he thought, that for a second, SkekKel saw his song through his eyes.
He also saw few times as Illustrator SkekLa looks at him with interested and even puzzled way, as he pace near her and he knew she sees too.
Why to long for others to see this odd thing in him? Most of them would shun him, probably, even despite how beautiful music he made. They posed for so dettached, so cold, so cruel... he knew most of them believe in their masks and now are as decayed in soul as they never were, in their youth.
By convenience. By getting used to. To fit.
They were proud of this strange light, in first days of the Empire, when it wasn't even an Empire. They danced, sang, threw arms in the air, mated, even loved. They were not the darkness the gelflings and podlings sees in them now. They were vigor, unexpected joy and thriving life. They weren't evil. They were active part of life, always in the move, always wanting more, unsatiated and beautiful.
Now, they all were a decaying society. No huge balls in gathering chamber anymore, no feasts apart from daily feeding. How many of their long gone glory still resided in hearts of his fellows, concealed, stuffed inside, muted, as he was mute? How many more wanted to again show themselves' their true nature but they just forgot how to BE?
They will remind it one day, if its given to them, by Great Conjunction or any other miracle. To steer them all from stagnation, to show them the old path. The old life.
And SkekShod wanted his song to be one of the element of the most beautiful awakening.
He looked at the small light in the far corner in the corridor which he was passing. Interested, he moved closer, approaching the shiny object.
Small shard of the crystal. Like many surrounding the castle, the child of the Great Crystal, the force that was giving them life, prolong it it and making them stronger, to survive one more day, one more month, one more trine.
Only few trines more, small crystal, he thought, only few trines more... and we are free.