Cindrissian hesitated.
A hesitation so deep, so weighted, I expected him not to answer.
Not when whatever it was had already been a struggle for him to accept, to acknowledge.
“You know we had an…unconventionalupbringing,”he said at last.“Before I was sent to Nyxaria.”
He let out a sound, somewhere between a breath and a sigh.“In our house, we couldn’t always talk aloud.”
A pause. Pain—brief, but unmistakable—ghosted his expression. “So, we invented a code.”
I swallowed again.
“And that one… what did it mean?”
Cindrissian’s fingers curled against his knee, his posture tightening. For the longest time,he didn’t answer.
Then, so quietly I almost didn’t hear, “It means I love you.”
Silence fell like a shroud. I didn’t dare tear it.
But underneath that quiet, I heard it. Not sound, exactly. Not even whisper.
The shadows.
Soft as breath, curling along the edges of the stone, brushing against my skin.
And without thinking I hummed.
A low sound. Not a tune, not really. Just... sound, to fill the ache in my chest. The heaviness of what I’d witnessed. A wordless way to hold grief that wasn’t mine but had somehow tangled itself around my ribs.
The melody didn’t stay mine for long. The shadows caught it. Lifted it. Transformed it. It was richer, older—like wind brushing through harp strings in the dark.
My lips stilled. But the music went on.
Cindrissian turned to stare at me. His eyes narrowed.
“What?” I asked, voice hoarse and quiet.
He didn’t answer right away. Just kept watching me.
“I knew someone else once… who used to sing in the dark.”
The way he said it made something in my chest twist sideways.
“Who were you in Braerlith?” His voice was clinical. Like he was cataloguing evidence.
The lie rolled off my tongue before I’d even shaped it. Smooth as silk. Easier than breathing.
“No one,” I said. “I was no one.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t believe me.
“In my research,” Cindrissian said slowly, still watching me with that sharp, dissecting gaze. “I couldn’t find any history of shadow fire connected to Braerlith. No bloodlines. No records. Nothing.” He paused. “But...”
Thatbuthung in the air like a knife waiting to drop.
“But what?” My voice came out steadier than I felt.
