Chapter 8

The warmth of the room was suffocating, cloying in its false comfort. The flickering torchlight carved sharp shadows across the walls, the movement making the general’s expression seem even more grotesque. My heart pounded beneath the weight of his command, each beat a stark reminder of my silence and powerlessness.

The eager Vila stood ready, eyes bright with anticipation. The annoyed Vila leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, a scowl twisting her lips. I felt frozen, bound by more than just the silence that clung to me like a noose.

The general’s eyes swept over us, lingering on me for a moment that made my skin crawl. He smirked, folding his hands behind his back as if this were a casual gathering.

“Today, my songbirds, you will sing for me,” he said, his voice soft yet sharp. The command wove through the air, tightening the invisible chains around us. The moment the words left his mouth, I felt a shift inside me, the compulsion to obey sparking to life. My body tensed, fighting the urge that pulsed under my skin.

The eager Vila’s eyes lit up, and I watched as she stepped forward, not waiting for further instruction. The general hadn’t yet spoken the command to allow our voices, so her eagerness was misplaced—or so I thought.

“General,” she said, her voice slicing through the silence. The sound startled me, jarring me out of my numbness. How could she speak? The command should have bound her voice as tightly as mine. I glanced at her, shock mingling with the sick realization that she must have given something up to reclaim that freedom.

“Sing,” the general said, amusement glinting in his eyes as he gestured for her to begin.

The eager Vila tilted her head slightly, taking a breath before her song began. It was melodic, haunting, a beautiful sound that filled the room and wrapped itself around us like a spell. Yet there was no grief, no raw emotion. Her song was wordless, empty, lacking the pain that could turn a Vila’s song into prophecy. The general’s smile began to fade as the song ended, and the silence returned, more oppressive than before.

He turned to the annoyed Vila, his gaze hardening. “You,” he commanded, lifting the silence that bound her. “Sing.”

The annoyed Vila’s eyes widened for a heartbeat, and then, just as like a puppeteer pulling her strings, she obeyed. Her voice rang out, carrying bitterness and defiance, a sound that vibrated in the air like a challenge. It was beautiful, powerful, but like the first song, it held no prophecy. The general’s jaw clenched.

Finally, his eyes landed on me. The room seemed to grow colder, the torches casting longer shadows as if even the light recoiled from his attention.

“Our newest bird,” he said, his tone cruel. “Sing.”

The command surged through me, irresistible, forcing my body to move of its own accord. I opened my mouth, the magic stirring like an unwanted guest beneath my skin. My heart raced as I felt the song building in my chest, threatening to spill out in a rush of grief and pain I wasn’t ready to unleash.

But before the first note left my throat, the door swung open, and a guard strode in, dragging a bloodied, gasping soldier behind him. The man fell to his knees, eyes wide with terror and pain, his chest heaving. The sudden interruption stilled the room, and I felt the compulsion inside me shudder to a halt, waiting.

The eager Vila’s eyes flicked between the general and the prisoner, a flicker of confusion passing over her features. The annoyed Vila shifted, her expression hardening into something unreadable.

The general’s gaze never left me, even as he spoke. “If the song does not yield what I need, there will be consequences.” His voice was low, cutting through the silence like a knife. He turned to the guard. “Prepare him.”

The guard nodded, roughly hauling the prisoner to his feet and positioning him where we could all see. The man’s eyes met mine for a brief, painful moment, and the desperation in them mirrored the hollow pit in my chest.

“Sing, Ali,” the general commanded again, his eyes dark with satisfaction. The compulsion roared to life, stripping away any thought of resistance. My body obeyed, my voice rising in a song that was not my own, a song filled with loss and longing that spoke of death and love entwined. The moment the first lyrics touched the air, the atmosphere shifted, charged with a power I couldn’t control.

The general’s smile returned, sharp and triumphant.

The room around us dissolved, replaced by a vision that engulfed us all.

We were no longer in the office. The world had shifted to a small, sunlit kitchen. The prisoner stood at the counter, humming softly as he chopped vegetables. The scene was serene, a stark contrast to the horrors of the dungeon. A woman entered the frame, laughing as she swatted his shoulder with a dish towel. His wife, maybe. There was love in his eyes as he turned to her, a kind of happiness that was foreign in a place like this.

The vision flickered, like a candle in the wind.

A child ran into the kitchen, his tiny feet slapping against the tiled floor. He carried something—a small, intricately carved wooden box. The soldier’s expression shifted subtly, his smile tightening as he quickly took the box from the child’s hands, tucking it out of sight. The vision ended abruptly, leaving behind an echo of something unfinished.

The world snapped back to the present, the dim torchlight and cold stone returning like a slap. The general’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with intensity.

“What was in the box?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the air.

The soldier didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Blood dripped steadily from his wounds, pooling beneath him, but he remained silent. The general’s face darkened.

“Very well,” he said, his tone cold. “Let’s see how long you last.”

The torture began. The soldier’s screams filled the room, each one tearing through me like a blade. I wanted to stop singing, to close my mouth and end the horror, but the command held me captive. My song continued, involuntary, even as they tore him apart in front of us.

I felt sick, disgusted with myself, but there was nothing I could do. The magic poured out of me, feeding the vision, even as I tried to retreat into the numbness that had become my only refuge.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I closed my eyes, letting the world blur as I sank into the hollow void inside me. It was the only place where their screams couldn’t reach me, where the weight of my song didn’t feel like chains dragging me down.

In my mind, I was nowhere. I was nothing.