The golden sun casts long, tense shadows across the marbled floor. The echo of the last note fades into the hush of the hall. Everyone is frozen in place.
The third verse had ended—but it wasn't the same.
It had sunk deeper. Felt older. Like something that wasn't meant to be sung anymore.
Aliah's chest had stilled for one suspended second. Then—she smiled.
It wasn't warmth.
It wasn't cruelty.
It wasn't human.
It was the smile of a door unlocking in a place no one wanted opened.
Her voice, when she spoke, wasn't entirely her own.
"Target name required… please confirm."
One guard stepped forward, hand moving to his blade.
But Aliah's hand had already moved—silently sliding behind her back. A glint of silver flashed between strands of her braid. A needle-thin blade. Not a hairpin. Not decoration. A quiet threat disguised as elegance.
Tension snapped like glass underfoot.
Cassian's voice cut the silence. Cold. Urgent.
"She's armed. Sher—say something. Anything. Control her before the command completes."
Sher didn't flinch. Her eyes fixed on Aliah—not with fear, but with calculation.
"The third verse no longer grants you permission to kill.
New trigger: Only upon hearing my voice say 'Release the Bell' will action be allowed."
The silence after her words was absolute.
Aliah blinked once. Then lowered her hand slowly, blade retreating into the knot of her braid. She tilted her head in a delicate, almost reverent nod.
"New trigger confirmed. Awaiting redeployment."
The guards didn't move. No one breathed too loudly. The weight of what had just occurred pressed on every soul in the room.
Cassian exhaled through his nose.
"You just rewired a weapon aimed at you."
Sher turned away, her voice low but carrying enough weight to snap everyone back to attention.
"Have every guard and maid examined with music boxes. I want them all gathered within the hour. Bring the original targets to me directly."
She didn't need to raise her voice. She was no longer speaking as a noblewoman or strategist. She was issuing orders as the one who just rewrote death with a single sentence.
The crowd parted as the Head Maid stepped forward, her steps sure despite the weight of the moment. She bowed deeply.
Her voice rang firm and clear.
"We've completed the sweep, Your Grace. Five reacted to the second verse. Three had contact with a marked music box in the last ten days. All are here—awaiting judgment."
A hush fell, thick and expectant. Every gaze turned to Sher.
Sher stood tall, but inside, her pulse was steady fire. This was not just about judgment. This was about reclamation.
She raised her voice—not sharp, but resonant.
"Can you all hear my voice?"
A ripple of whispers passed through the room. The air constricted as everyone straightened—maids clutching aprons, guards shifting uneasily. The fear was palpable, but so was the hope. Sher's presence carved through it.
The Head Maid bowed her head slightly.
"They hear you, Your Grace."
From the crowd, a young maid—barely more than a girl—nodded, her voice a whisper.
"Yes… Duchess. We can…"
A guard, more seasoned, more wary, added:
"Loud and clear, milady."
Then Sher saw it—a flicker in one man's eyes. His lips parted, soundless, forming shapes no one else noticed. Cassian noticed. He leaned close, voice low.
"One of them's hearing more than just your voice. Be careful how you speak next."
Everyone had gone still again. The test had begun.
Sher's breath came evenly, but her chest was tight. Her words had to be precise. No falter. No slip.
She spoke again.
"Can you all remember your identity?"
Several glanced at one another. Some nodded, confused but compliant. Among the eight suspects, a few looked genuinely unsure. A quiet, sad tension hung over them.
An older maid stepped forward, trembling slightly.
"I'm Merla. I was born in Southridge… I came to serve the Duchess's house after the floods…"
She made eye contact. Despite her fear, she stood her ground.
A young guard spoke next.
"My name is Torin. Son of Luthen, trained at Redhall garrison…"
His tone was hollow. Like words borrowed, not remembered.
Then—a faint murmur. One of the other maids, barely audible, was whispering. Cassian leaned in again.
"She's reciting lyrics. Under her breath."
The Head Maid's jaw tensed.
"Some of them… may not be fully aware they've been triggered, Your Grace. They could think they're fine—until the third verse plays."
Sher drew a breath. Her voice grew quieter—but firmer.
"How many of them can hear me and understand me?"
The Head Maid stepped closer, holding a parchment.
"All of them hear you. But based on response delay and subtle eye movement… we believe only four of the eight are fully conscious and aware. The rest… may be functioning on instinct. Conditioned. If you speak the wrong word—"
She didn't finish. She didn't have to.
Cassian's eyes were dark with understanding.
"We don't know who's listening through them. The Composer might be waiting to hear your next phrase."
Near the back, another maid blinked slowly, mouthing something wordless. One guard's fingers twitched rhythmically.
Cassian's voice dropped to a hush.
"If you're going to anchor the conscious ones—or break the others—you'll need to speak with certainty. Like a conductor before the first strike."
Sher nodded once. Then she raised her voice—neither sharp nor soft, but deliberate. Every syllable measured. Every breath filled with conviction.
"I'm going to speak now.
The one who understands—reply.
The one who cannot—listen.
And the one who cannot hear—feel."
Silence followed. A silence that seemed to stretch across the palace.
Then—it began.
The older maid, Merla, bowed again, eyes shining.
"I hear you… and I understand, Duchess."
Relief bloomed in her face—like she had feared she might be lost too.
Torin, the guard, spoke next.
"…I… I don't know why… but… I want to listen to you."
It wasn't robotic. It was real.
Then the tide turned.
The silent maid gasped and collapsed, clutching her chest. The rhythm-twitching guard staggered, covered his ears, then slowly looked at Sher in disoriented awe.
"What… am I doing here?"
The Head Maid's breath caught.
"Four are waking, Your Grace. Two more… responding physically. They're feeling you."
Cassian's voice was almost reverent.
"Your voice… you broke into them."
But his tone shifted darker.
"But the last two… are completely still."
Sher's gaze didn't leave the unmoving figures.
"What are your next orders, Duchess?" the Head Maid asked.
Sher turned back to the four who were awake.
Her voice gentled.
"What do you fear?
What hurts you?
What do you regret?
You can tell me."
The weight in the air changed. Like rain falling gently on long-starved soil.
Merla, her voice trembling, confessed:
"My fear… was that I'd hurt the little ones.
I was told… if I ever spoke of the song, they'd send me back to the black house.
But I stayed quiet. For my daughter's dowry."
Torin followed, eyes glassy:
"I regret following that man into the woods.
They gave us coin… told us to memorize the rhythm.
I didn't know it would be… control.
I don't want to forget who I am again."
The maid who collapsed spoke softly:
"The pain is waking up and not knowing where I've been.
I found blood on my apron once… and no one noticed.
I regret not asking then."
The twitching guard dropped his gaze:
"I fear music now. Even laughter.
I flinch at whistling.
My regret… I didn't leave when my brother warned me."
Their voices weren't confessions. They were reclamations.
Cassian leaned closer to Sher.
"This is your army now. Not swords, not spies—hearts you've unchained."
Sher stepped forward, her voice steady.
"Will you let me help you?"
The silence afterward was sacred.
Then they began to answer.
Merla lifted her eyes.
"Yes, Duchess. I need your help.
I need to believe my daughter won't live under the same shadow I did."
Torin's voice steadied:
"I don't want to be afraid of myself anymore.
If you'll help me remember who I am… I'll serve you. As me."
The maid who had fallen whispered:
"Help me remember what I did…
I want to make it right."
The last guard nodded.
"If you'll lead, I'll follow.
Not like a tool—but like a man."
Sher's heart swelled—not from pride, but from a quiet ache that had waited years to be seen.
She took one more step forward.
"We're all the same.
We all carry fear, pain, and regret.
I'm no different from you.
So I want you to remember—
You all deserve forgiveness.
You all deserve to be happy.
There is nothing wrong in being scared.
Don't give up because of your fears.
Don't give up on your humanity."
She paused, voice soft but unwavering.
"If you are scared and can't do anything—ask for help.
If you can't find someone—find me."
That last line rippled through the room like a bell.
Merla fell to her knees.
"Duchess… thank you… for speaking to us like we matter."
Torin, eyes gleaming:
"You're not just saving us… You're giving us back to ourselves."
Then—
One of the silent ones blinked. Her lips trembled. Her hands clenched.
"I… don't know… my real name…"
Tears fell freely.
"But… I heard you. I felt it.
Please… don't let me disappear again…"
The final figure—silent till now—gasped. Buckled. Knees struck the ground. He shivered, then sobbed quietly.
Cassian's voice, almost reverent:
"You did it. Every last one of them."
The Head Maid stepped forward, bowing low.
"Your Grace… You've done something no Duke or Duchess before you ever dared."
All eight now knelt—not from command, but choice.
Torin raised his head.
"What would you have us do now… Duchess?
Command us as people—not puppets."
Sher looked upon them. Her voice trembled, not with fear—but with feeling.
"I want you to trust me.
I want you all to be my voice.
There are people who need help—I can't reach them.
But I want my voice to reach them."
She held her hand over her chest.
"Become my voice. Deliver my words.
Tell them Sher can feel them. Sher understands them. Sher is the same as they are.
Tell them to trust me.
Tell them to be my voice."
Silence followed. Then the vow began.
Merla:
"I'll carry your words to every kitchen, every nursery.
I'll tell them… Sher is listening."
Torin:
"I'll speak to the young guards. The broken ones.
There's a woman at the heart of this house who leads with fire."
The unnamed maid:
"If they've forgotten themselves… I'll remind them.
Because you reminded me."
The last servant:
"I'll walk the darkest halls.
And I'll whisper your name to the ones who think no one can hear them anymore."
Cassian whispered behind her:
"You've just created something far more dangerous than spies…
You've created believers."
The Head Maid wept quietly.
"You gave them something worth fighting for. Now they'll echo it where you cannot."
Sher c
losed her eyes—and
then spoke one final time.
"If you ever find yourself lost…
Reach to your heart.
It's still beating—telling you you're still alive.
Telling you to live.
Not to give up.
Fight from your fear.
That's the voice I listened to.
The voice I followed.
And it's the same voice that's inside you."
She opened her eyes, warm and unwavering.
"That's the voice of the heart."