Books reading recommendations Musical Magic: Five SFF Stories About the Power of Song Tales about finding your voice and singing your heart out. By Ratika Deshpande | Published on November 20, 2025 Photo by Kati Hoehl [via Unsplash] Comment 0 Share New Share Photo by Kati Hoehl [via Unsplash] I don’t have a particularly good voice, so I’ve always envied those who can create magic with their singing—who sound melodious even when they’re humming a tune as they work around the house. The act of singing connects our bodies and our emotions, transforming our innermost workings into something external, something to be shared; there’s something so primal about it, when you think of how prevalent song is in nature. I always find it interesting to read about characters who are profoundly connected to songs and music—what powers can arise out of voice and melody? How might such a gift be put to use? And how painful is it to be separated from that magic? Here are five stories that consider these questions: “I Will Sing Your White Bones Home” by Cat Hellisen Dying in battle against the finless is a thing of glory, but dying for the love of a finless is not something that Osam had thought her brother Diev would ever do. But he is gone now. Their mother is planning a ghost-wedding for Diev so that further deaths can be avoided in the fight against the finless. She can’t see his ghost, but Osam can, and he tells her that he doesn’t want to marry another ghost. Instead, he has a different request, something that feels impossible—a request that requires song and painful sacrifice. Will Osam’s love for her brother prove adequate for the task, or will the pain be too great to bear? An immersive, melancholy, and deeply evocative story. “The Vessels of Song” by Avram Klein The great Badchen Yankel and his troupe of musicians were on their way to play at a wedding when they decided to take rest at a ramshackle inn. The place wasn’t in good condition but would have to do, for they were cold and tired and their journey was not yet over. So it’s no fault of their own when they find themselves battling the shaydim—or demons, as the Christians call them—instead of enjoying a warm place to rest for the night.  …and if you provide sufficient zlotys, he’ll tell you what happened next, for the Badchen Yankel is not only a klezmer who can create songs to destroy the shaydim, but also a storyteller whose skillful tales make people more than happy to meet his price. “On the Origin of Song” by Naim Kabir Letters, transcripts, notes, testimonies and reports gradually reveal the story of Ciallah Daroun, a scholar from the Plateau who is excited to discover the world and wants to know the origins of Song—a force that in our world would be the equivalent of artificial and natural energy—and why his people cannot Sing in the way that Men and Beasts encountered during his explorations can. He is a simple scholar, but to the rest of the world, his comes from a race of people who cannot think, let alone conduct scholarship, which is enough to put them on guard and pursue him out of fear. As one peruses these documents, the story that emerges is dark and sad, a story of judgement, and prejudice resulting from misinformation, fear, and baseless stereotypes. “As the Prairie Grasses Sing” by Sarah L. Edwards On a trip with her father, Ghemma gets the chance to observe and share brief interactions with wild animals. She reaches out to them out of curiosity, but her father is keeping an eye out—watching to see if she can understand them, like her mother does. For Ghemma speaks with signs, not spoken words. Her mother lives in fear because her ability to speak to animals scares other people. Does Ghemma possess a similar connection with other creatures? Her parents don’t know. For Ghemma, only nine, it’s not something she had considered to be very different from speaking with signs. But now, as she feels the weight of her father’s desire that she be one of them—that hopefully, she’ll sing the way her father does—Ghemma is forced to consider—does she want to speak? Does she want to sing, be like her father? Or does she want to be like her mother? Is it even possible to choose either option? “Do As I Do, Sing As I Sing” by Sarah Pinsker Guerre’s people cultivate koh with the help of cropsingers. They trade their harvest with the Osa people, who raise goats for milk. Both the koh and the milk are essential to the people’s survival and the community’s wellbeing depends upon this balance this creates. One day, people come to her village in a flying machine and inform the villagers of her cousin’s passing. Aro had been chosen by them several years earlier to be trained in cropsinging. Now, he’s gone and the village’s current cropsinger is failing. They need to train someone else and Guerre passes their little test, with no idea of what’s in store for her future. Acco, her brother, volunteers to join her, but he’s rejected. At that moment, the siblings’ paths diverge completely. While Guerre learns the science of plants and undergoes intense, life-threatening training—for it takes months to cultivate a field through singing—Acco leaves for The City. He returns with a “gift” that promises ease for the village, but which could actually bring about the destruction of cropsingers and the village’s harmony with the Osa people. Guerre is worried, but how can she reach out to her brother without dismissing his work, while also preserving her own?[end-mark] The post Musical Magic: Five SFF Stories About the Power of Song appeared first on Reactor.