And then, I heard them.
A soft, melodic hum.
Faint. Almost inaudible beneath the breath and the drip of water on stone. But it was there.
Careful not to wake Varyth, I hummed the melody of a song I had learned since arriving in this realm, a fae lullaby. The one I’d hummed to the first girl.
A song of loss and tragedy, of love stolen too soon and grief that stretched beyond lifetimes. Lira had taught it to me, a song to honour Navaire in a way that children could understand.
The darkness listened.
And then, it echoed me.
The hum deepened, shifting, at first merely imitating the song I offered. But then—it changed. The music wove through the air like smoke.
It was beautiful.
It ached.
There were no words, it didn’t need them.
Heartbreak. Loss. Longing. It all drifted through the air. As though the world itself knew exactly what I needed to hear.
I closed my eyes and listened. The melody wrapped around me, a gentle caress against my battered soul. It seeped into the cracks of my being, filling the hollow spaces with a bittersweet warmth. For a moment, I forgot where I was, lost in the haunting notes that emanated from the stones around us.
As I listened, memories played through my mind. Faces of those I had been forced to choose, their final moments etched into my mind with cruel clarity. But now, instead of the crushingweight of guilt, there was a shared sorrow, the world itself mourning with me.
The song lifted, becoming more intricate, weaving threads of hope through the melancholy. It spoke of resilience, of strength found in the darkest moments.
My breath formed but never finished, suspended in the stillness between heartbeats as the music reached into my very essence, touching a part of me I thought had been lost forever.
Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, but for once, they weren’t born of despair. The song understood, accepted, and offered solace without judgment. It didn’t absolve. It didn’t lie. It just stayed.
In the hum of its music, I heard what it could not speak.
You are not alone in this.
I let the song lull me back into sleep, my body easing against Varyth’s warmth, the world shifting around me with the quiet knowledge that something, somewhere, was listening.
66
The blade carved through shadow and skin alike, whispering with each pass. Xyliria hummed softly, pleased, as if this were nothing more than a tedious ritual she performed out of habit.
A hobby. A craft.
Ashterion bled in silence beneath her hands, limbs bound, breath shallow but steady. The room stank of copper and ozone, thick with the sharp bite of magic. His shadows had retreated to the far corners of the chamber, too fractured to fight, too loyal to flee.
The silvery line across his ribs smoked where the blade touched it. Her favourite toy, enchanted specifically for him. It cut through everything. Flesh. Bone. Shadows.
“You’re being so well behaved today,” she purred. “No writhing, no snarling. I do appreciate when you remember your place.”
The blade dragged across his abdomen in a shallow curve, not deep enough to be lethal, enough to remind. To mark.
Ashterion didn’t react. Not even a twitch.
Her smile widened, pleased with herself, as if his stillness were submission and not strategy.
“I think that deserves a reward,” she continued, her tone dipped in syrup. “Perhaps I’ll let you keep your voice tonight. Or your shadows. Or maybe—” She tilted her head, lips brushing his jaw. “Maybe I’ll let you pick which part I carve next.”
