The Soul’s Chorus

Chapter 6

Two days after the bracelet, a summons came. The Alpha Primus requested Chloe’s presence for a morning tour. It was not a request. It was a command, delivered by a stone-faced steward who waited at her door until she was ready.

Kaelen stood guard in the hallway as she dressed. She chose a simple dress of dove grey. She did not want to wear blue for him. When she emerged, Kaelen fell into step beside her. His face was its usual careful blank, but she saw his eyes flick to her, a question in them. Are you alright? She gave a tiny shake of her head. No.

They were led not to a receiving room, but to the east wing of Corbin’s sprawling manor, a part she had never seen. The air grew warmer and wetter as they walked. The scent of damp soil and strange, sweet flowers overpowered the usual smell of stone and polish.

The steward opened a pair of tall, glass-paned doors. Warm, humid air washed over Chloe, thick as soup.

She stepped into Corbin’s aviary.

It was a forest under glass. A huge, domed room of iron and crystal. Giant ferns unfurled toward the misty ceiling. Vines with blood-red flowers snaked up carved pillars. A shallow stream trickled over smooth rocks. And everywhere, there were birds.

They were not Silvathorne birds. They were captures from the human world, or from realms even older. Their feathers were explosions of color: sapphire blue, emerald green, sunset orange. They flitted through the steamy air, their wings making soft, whispering sounds. Their calls were sharp and musical, a chaotic song. The place was beautiful. It was alive. And it was a prison.

Corbin stood in the center, beside a small, delicate tree with silver leaves. He wore a dark green jacket today, blending with the foliage. He looked like the lord of this tiny, trapped world.

“Chloe,” he said, his voice warm. The false warmth. “I’m glad you came. I find peace here. A reminder of the beauty that exists when order is imposed on wild things.”

He gestured for her to join him. Kaelen stopped at the entrance, just inside the doors. His posture was rigid. He was a statue again, but his eyes were active, watching every flit of a bird, every move Corbin made.

Chloe walked forward slowly, the gravel path crunching under her shoes. The air was hard to breathe.

“This one,” Corbin said, pointing to a bird with long, trailing tail feathers of pure gold, “is from a continent across the sea. It sang so beautifully in the wild it drew hunters. Here, it sings for me. It is safer.” He looked at her. “Safety often requires sacrifice, does it not?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He led her deeper. “These, from the northern mountains. Fierce little things. They had to be kept alone for a year. They would attack the others. Now, they understand the community.” He smiled. “Structure tames even the wildest heart.”

Every word was a lesson. Wrapped in pretty feathers and the smell of flowers, but a lesson all the same.

They stopped before a large cage made of fine, gilt wire. Inside was a magnificent bird of prey, its feathers a pattern of charcoal and cream. Its eyes were sharp, intelligent, and furious. It gripped its perch with talons like curved knives.

“A hawk,” Corbin said, almost lovingly. “A born hunter. Its instinct is to soar, to strike, to own the sky.” He reached between the wires. The hawk shrieked and flapped, beating its powerful wings. But it could not fly far. The cage was too small.

Corbin’s hand moved swiftly, not to the bird, but to a small lever on the side of the cage. With a soft click, a tiny, delicate silver chain unfurled from the perch, its end connected to a thin band around the hawk’s leg. The hawk jumped, startled, and tried to take off. The chain snapped it back. It tried again, beating its wings harder. The chain held. It was just long enough to allow a hop, a flutter, but not flight.

After a moment, the hawk went still. Its proud head drooped. It was a heartbreaking sight.

“You see?” Corbin murmured, his eyes on the defeated bird. “It is not the cage that truly breaks the spirit. It is the tether. The knowledge that freedom is an illusion, right there at the end of your leg. It learns. It stops straining. Its loyalty becomes… absolute.”

A cold dread, deeper than any she had felt before, seeped into Chloe’s bones. This wasn’t a tour. It was a demonstration. Her demonstration.

Corbin turned from the hawk to face her fully. His winter-grey eyes held hers. He reached into his pocket.

“Which brings me to a gift for my bride,” he said. His voice was soft, conversational. “A token. To keep you safe, as I keep my beautiful things safe.”

He opened his hand. On his palm lay a necklace.

It was a slender, delicate chain made of shining silver. From it hung a pendant: a single, teardrop-shaped moonstone, pale and milky. It was, in its way, beautiful.

But to Chloe, it was a horror. Silver. Pure, refined silver. The metal was not deadly to werewolves like the old stories said, but it was painful. It was an irritant, a burning sensation against their skin, a reminder of human industry, of everything they were not. For a Sunderling, a creature already considered impure, its touch was said to be a special affront.

“A moonstone,” Corbin said. “For the moon-touched bride. And a silver chain, to show your connection to the new order you are entering. The strength of my house.”

He stepped closer. “Turn around, my dear.”

Her feet were rooted to the gravel path. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She looked past him, to the entrance. Kaelen was staring, his body tense as a coiled spring. His hands were clenched at his sides. But he did not move. He could not.

“Chloe,” Corbin said, the word a gentle warning.

Slowly, stiffly, she turned her back to him. She lifted the heavy weight of her hair. She closed her eyes.

She felt his fingers, cool and deliberate, brush the nape of her neck as he fastened the clasp. The moment the silver settled against her skin, it began.

It was not a burn like fire. It was a cold, itching burn. Like frostbite. A constant, prickling discomfort where the metal lay against her collarbone and the back of her neck. It was a feeling she could not ignore. A tiny, relentless torture.

“There,” Corbin said, his hands resting on her shoulders for a moment too long. He turned her back to face him. His eyes scanned her face, looking for tears, for a flinch. She gave him nothing. She locked her feelings away in a deep, dark place inside her.

He smiled, satisfied. He reached out and adjusted the pendant, his finger briefly touching the moonstone. The chain shifted, scraping the tender skin. She forced herself not to shudder.

“It suits you,” he said. “A reminder. Even the most fragile, the most stained beauty has a place here Protected, appreciated but never free. Loyalty, Chloe, is the highest virtue. Remember the hawk. It is kinder to stop straining against the tether.”

He offered his arm. “Shall we finish our walk?”

For the next twenty minutes, Chloe walked beside him through the jungle of his making. The silver chain burned her skin. The cries of the beautiful, trapped birds felt like screams in her ears. She nodded when she had to. She spoke monosyllabic answers. All her energy was focused on not reaching up and ripping the necklace off.

Finally, they returned to the doors. Kaelen’s gaze was like a physical weight on her. She could feel his eyes on the silver chain, on her pale, set face.

“Thank you for your time, my lord,” she managed to say, her voice dry.

“Of course. Kaelen,” Corbin said, nodding to the guardian. “See her back. And ensure she wears her gift. I will be checking.”

The unspoken command hung in the humid air: You are part of this enforcement now.

The walk back to her rooms was silent. The burning on her neck was a frantic drumbeat of pain. Once inside her sitting room, the door closed, she could bear it no longer. Her hand flew to the clasp.

“You can’t.”

Kaelen’s voice was quiet, pained.

She froze, her fingers on the silver. She turned to look at him. The mask was gone. His face was etched with a frustrated anger.

“He said he would check,” Kaelen said, each word seeming to cost him. “If it’s gone, the punishment will be worse. For you. Possibly for your mother.”

Chloe’s hand fell to her side. He was right. The tears she had held back in the aviary now rose, hot and blinding. She did not let them fall. She stood in the middle of the room, trembling, the pretty, poisonous gift burning into her skin.

Kaelen took a step forward, then stopped. He looked helpless. His duty was to guard her. Part of that duty, now, was to ensure she wore her torment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was barely a breath.

It was the first time anyone in Silvathorne, besides her mother, had ever apologized to her for anything. It didn’t stop the burn. But it was a small, cool drop of water in a desert of cruelty.

She gave another tiny shake of her head. Not your fault.

She walked to the window and stared out at the real forest, the untamed one beyond the walls. The hawk in her mind beat its wings against the silver tether. She felt its desperate fury in her own heart.

The lesson had been learned. Not of loyalty and submission as Corbin intended, but a darker, harder one: about the nature of her cage, and the cold, creative cruelty of the man who held the key. And she understood, with a chilling clarity, that the wedding night would not be an end to this. It would only be the fastening of a heavier, longer chain.