The light creeping through the high window barely touched the cold stone wall. Morning was technically here, but the dungeon still felt like the end of a long, sleepless night.
A quiet hum escaped Eirelyn's lips. A tune with no name. It beat faintly from her chest like a memory refusing to die. Something from another world. A kitchen filled with the smell of bread. Fingers combing gently through her hair. A lullaby whispered by someone long gone.
"Beautiful song," said the woman in the next cell. Her voice was softer than Eirelyn expected.
Eirelyn's humming stopped immediately. She turned toward the wall, listening.
"Who's there?" she asked cautiously.
"Me? Just another prisoner, like you," the woman replied calmly.
Eirelyn moved closer to the wall, though she couldn't see anything through it. The woman's voice was clear—too clear.
"Sorry," Eirelyn said quietly. "Didn't mean to disturb anyone."
"You didn't," the woman replied. "I haven't heard a melody like that in years. Your voice… it reminds me of something I forgot."
Eirelyn hesitated, then replied, "It's just… something from somewhere else."
"Somewhere else?" the woman repeated the words slowly. "Do you miss your home?"
"I'm not sure I even have one anymore."
A moment passed.
"I understand," the woman said.
Silence. Then:
"Eirelyn… that's your name, isn't it?"
Eirelyn's breath caught.
"How do you know that?"
"I heard the guard whisper it yesterday. Strange name around here."
Eirelyn didn't answer, but her mind sharpened.
The woman continued. "There used to be a shop in a town called Nemora. The owner was a woman who healed without touching and spoke to herbs like they were people. Her name sounded a lot like yours."
Eirelyn's chest tightened.
"I don't know Nemora," she said quickly, trying to sound neutral.
A pause.
"Strange. I thought the name would spark something."
"Lots of people have similar names."
"And maybe… similar secrets."
Eirelyn didn't reply.
Then the woman—Nalia—spoke again, her voice slow and deliberate.
"You're not ordinary. I can feel it. There's something about you you're trying very hard to hide."
"Oh? Can you read souls now?" Eirelyn said coldly.
Nalia let out a soft laugh. "I read voices. And lies."
Eirelyn's chest clenched.
This woman wasn't just another prisoner.
She was here for something.
"I still think you're hiding something," Nalia said softly. "You can trust me. I won't tell anyone."
"JUST SHUT UP! MY HEAD HURTS FROM YOUR VOICE!"
Nalia went silent.
Eirelyn breathed out. Finally. Peace.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head there, thinking. How could she escape this place?
Footsteps.
Then that voice.
"I hope they treated you well. I trust you're enjoying our hospitality, Lady Eirelyn."
Sarcasm.
Lucien.
Of course it was him.
She looked at him with clear irritation, then turned away. She didn't have the strength to spar with anyone else.
He sighed. "I'll be back shortly. I have someone else to speak with first."
She didn't respond.
He signaled a guard to bring Nalia to the adjacent room.
He gave Eirelyn one more look. Then left.
---
A nearby chamber – temporary interrogation room
Lucien stood across from Nalia.
"Did you get anything from her?"
She hesitated. "No… she says she doesn't know anything."
His stare sharpened.
"Still playing games, little dove?" he muttered. "Fine. Let's see what spills from your mouth next time."
He signaled the guards.
As they pulled her away, she pleaded:
"You promised! Am I getting out?"
Lucien smiled cruelly.
"No answers. No freedom."
Her protests echoed down the hall.
Lucien exhaled and adjusted his collar.
Time to try another tactic.
---
Back at the cell
Lucien stood outside Eirelyn's bars, watching her.
His voice was lower now. Calm.
"One more time… where is the pendant?"
Eirelyn looked at him. Steady.
"I'm not stupid," she said coldly. "Why would I tell you where it is?"
She added after a pause, "If I even knew."
His expression twitched.
His patience had clearly run out.
He stepped into the cell.
Kneeled to her level.
Eyes sharp.
"You're wasting my time," he said slowly. "If you don't talk…"
He drew his sword.
Pressed it lightly to her throat.
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she sighed.
"It fell. When you people grabbed me. You left the shop wide open. Maybe someone took it. Maybe a thief."
A vein throbbed on his temple.
He stood. Breathing tightly.
And said nothing.
---
Elsewhere, in an upper room of The Last Drop tavern
The pendant rested in Kaelon's hand like a dead ember. It didn't burn. But its weight pressed into him.
The faint light reflected off its strange surface—no glow, no warmth. It looked like it had been carved from something that had forgotten how to live.
Kaelon stared at the markings. Once, they pulsed with life. Now they were silent.
He took a slow breath. Pulled a small blade from his drawer. Pricked his fingertip. A single drop of blood fell onto the pendant.
He waited.
Nothing.
No tremble. No light. No sound.
He exhaled sharply and nearly tossed it across the room.
Then—
A noise, like something breaking inside his head.
He gasped and clutched his skull, groaning under invisible pressure.
Then came a voice.
Not a girl's.
Not a woman's.
A melody.
Slow. Hollow. Like it climbed from a bottomless well.
Words formed.
Not through his ears—through his mind.
A feminine voice. Calm. Cold. Deep.
"Who calls me with blood?"
He opened his eyes. Sweat dripped down his face.
"I... Kaelon."
"Kaelon..." the voice echoed his name, like testing it. "A name from the past."
"Where's Eirelyn?"
"Which one?"
His jaw tightened. "The one who wore you! The one I knew!"
A pause.
"She's gone."
"Gone?! Where?!"
"She didn't want to stay. Pain made her leave. Missing you wasn't enough to bring her back."
"LIAR!"
His voice exploded through the room.
"Eirelyn would never leave me!"
"She did."
Silence.
The pendant didn't glow. But it pulsed inside him.
"Then… who's in her body now?"
"Another."
"Another?!"
"A soul not from this world. But one that clung to life harder than the one before."
He shivered.
"I don't want her. I want Eirelyn."
"Then mourn in silence. Because she won't return."
"I'LL BRING HER BACK!"
"Her body is no longer hers. The pendant has chosen."
He dropped to his knees.
"You're lying…"
"You're just not listening."
The voice faded in
to a cold, mocking hush.
"With every new soul… the old one dies. Learn to see through new eyes. Or stay chained to the ghost."
Then—nothing.
The pendant was cold.
But his chest burned.
Not with fire.
With a fracture.
That would never heal.
To be continued in Chapter 15...