The market square of Aeloria, city of strings and song, was already stirring when Kael and Lyra stepped out from the estate gates. Merchants barked prices over the clamor of flutes, harps, and steel pans. The air shimmered with resonance, small bursts of notes as vendors used their gifts to draw attention to stalls.
Kael kept his hood low. Every sound around him felt heavier now, as if the word curse clung to the edges of every whisper.
At the center of the square stood the group Lyra's father had arranged, the mercenary band known across the northern routes as the Iron Choir.
Six of them, armored not in matching uniforms but in the worn confidence of survivors. Their insignia, a cracked silver bell painted on leather, hung loosely on cloaks and shields.
At their front was a tall man with messy auburn hair, carrying a side-drum strapped across his chest. He grinned the moment he saw them.
"Ah! So the estate sends us children." He clapped his hands together like a teacher welcoming pupils. "I'm Brann, your new best friend until someone pays me more to kill you. Don't worry, I rarely switch sides."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Rarely?"
Brann winked. "Joke. Probably."
Behind him stood a broad-shouldered man in heavy mail, carrying a horn longer than Kael's arm. His eyes were sharp and cold, measuring Kael as if weighing the worth of his bones.
"Darius," Brann introduced casually, gesturing toward him. "Vice-leader. He's the serious one. You'll like him once he stops trying to kill you with his stare."
Darius only grunted. His gaze lingered on Kael. "This is the cursed one?"
Kael flinched.
"Not cursed," Lyra said firmly.
Darius didn't answer.
Beside them stood a hooded figure, smaller than the others, hands stuffed into her sleeves. When the wind shifted, Kael caught sight of silver hair spilling out beneath the hood. Her voice came soft, but steady.
"Selene."
Kael blinked. "That's… your name?"
"Yes." She tilted her head, studying him with unblinking calm. "Are you afraid of yourself?"
The question pierced deeper than any blade. Kael swallowed and looked away.
Brann broke the silence with a booming laugh. "Good, good, introductions made. Now, children, the Choir welcomes you. And by welcome, I mean: if you slow us down, we leave you for the crows."
He pounded his drum twice, sharp and playful. The sound rippled through the square like a command, and the mercenaries began to move.
The road stretched wide and dusty as they left the city. The Choir walked in loose formation, Darius scouting ahead, Brann in the center with his drum, and Selene drifting at the edges like a shadow. Kael and Lyra kept close, the weight of watchful eyes pressing against their backs.
By nightfall, they made camp in a clearing. Brann struck his drum softly, setting rhythm for the group as they built fires and laid out rations.
"Training starts now," Brann announced suddenly, spinning the drumsticks in his fingers. He pointed one at Kael. "Flute-boy, show us what you've got. Echo us a tune."
Kael hesitated. The others had stopped eating, watching him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Even Lyra's expression carried a flicker of doubt she tried to hide.
Slowly, he lifted his flute. The first notes trembled, thin and uncertain. He tried to weave his resonance into the melody, but the sound cracked, warping uncontrollably. The campfire wavered under the pulse, sparks snapping upward.
Darius scowled. "Pathetic."
Brann only grinned wider. "Beautiful."
"Beautiful?" Lyra shot him a glare. "That nearly burned the tents!"
"Yes," Brann said cheerfully, "and isn't that something? Power without rhythm is chaos, but chaos has its charm."
Selene tilted her hood toward Kael. "You're drowning in noise. That's why you fail. Find the silence."
Kael lowered the flute, shame flooding him. Silence. Was that what was missing?
Brann tossed him a waterskin and clapped his shoulder. "Relax, boy. Even the ugliest note can fit the world's song if you play it long enough. Just don't give up before you find your place."
Kael looked into the fire, heart pounding. Find the silence…
For the first time, he wondered if the silence inside him wasn't a curse at all.