CHAPTER 3: FORBIDDEN MELODY
973 Words
The city felt uneasy. Clouds hung close over the rooftops of Seren, creating long shadows on the stone walls and tight, winding alleys. Tonight's silence felt heavier, as if the entire city was holding its breath.
Elara felt it in her chest, a pain that wouldn't go away.
A kind of pain that only music could reach.
She stood alone once more in the ruined theater, the same secret spot she always went to when silence got too much.
A candle beside her flickered weakly as she tightened the strings on her violin.
She shouldn't play.
Not again. Not so soon.
But something inside her was moving-something stronger than fear.
The melody had been in her head for weeks.
It wasn't like the others. This one came from somewhere deeper, as if it had picked her out. It had no name, no shape, but it beat in her blood like a second heart.
And tonight, it had to be played.
She lifted her bow.
At first, only a soft hum-low and haunting.
Then the first notes, slow and searching. The sound curled through the broken space around her, gentle as falling snow. Elara's fingers moved without thinking, her eyes closed, her mind far from the city walls of Seren.
The melody grew.
It was unlike anything she had ever played-wild, painful, full of life.
Notes of sadness met bursts of anger, and beneath it all was something deeper: a memory of joy that the city had tried to forget. A joy that had been lost, and never truly left.
The music didn't just play.
It *spread*.
A faint light shimmered at her fingertips, not seen but felt.
Dust lifted from the floor, floating in the air as if listening. The carvings on the stage pillars shuddered.
Then something unexpected happened.
“The Whispering Wall”, all the way at the back of the theater, began to hum.
Elara's eyes flew open.
She kept playing, scared to stop.
The melody led her hands, each note pulling more feelings from her than she thought she had left. Sadness. Longing. Anger. Hope.
She reached the final high point.
When the last note rang out, everything went silent.
No sound.
No movement. The candle was gone.
Elara stood still, violin still in the air, her heart beating like a drum.
The silence that came next felt strange-"alert", in a way. Like it had heard something. She put down the violin and took a step back, suddenly feeling very cold. Her body shook not because she was tired, but because of something else: fear. The music had changed things. She didn't know exactly what, but she could feel it.
A loud creak sounded behind her.
She turned quickly, eyes wide with surprise.
A person stepped out from the shadows.
"I hoped it wasn't real," a quiet voice said.
Elara recognized the voice right away.
"Rina".
Her hood was down, and her face was unreadable.
"How long have you been there?"
Elara asked.
"Long enough," Rina replied, moving closer and looking toward the violin.
"That wasn't just any song."
"No," Elara said, holding the instrument tighter.
"It wasn't."
Rina looked shaken.
"What was it?"
"I don't know," Elara admitted.
"It came to me in bits. I didn't write it-I remembered it."
"From where?"
"I don't know that either."
Rina didn't move.
"I felt something," she whispered.
"It was like... I could feel what you were feeling. I saw my mother's face. Her laugh. And then-" She stopped.
"What?"
Elara asked.
"I saw things.
Things I didn't live through. Like... someone else's memories."
They stared at each other in silence.
"You can't play that again," Rina said suddenly.
Elara blinked.
"Why?"
"Because if I felt it, others would too.
You think the Council doesn't have ears everywhere? That kind of song-it's not just dangerous, Elara. It's forbidden. You awakened something."
"I don't care," Elara said, her voice low.
"They should feel. They should remember."
"Even if it gets you killed?"
Elara looked down at her violin.
"Yes."
Rina swallowed hard.
"Then you need to run."
But Elara shook her head.
"I'm not running anymore."
A long silence followed.
"I can still cover for you," Rina said quietly.
"If they come asking. But you need to be careful."
Elara looked into Rina's eyes.
And in that moment, for the first time... she wasn't sure if she could trust her.
An hour later, Elara sat on the edge of her rooftop shack, looking down at the dark streets below.
The melody still ran through her mind, refusing to go away. That song had come from somewhere deep, and its power had been real.
But where had it come from?
She reached for her mother's old notebook-old, mostly blank pages.
Her mother had once written music in it. Now, it was empty. But Elara flipped through anyway.
Halfway through, she found it.
A page with notes. The very first notes of the song she had just played.
Her heart jumped.
She hadn't remembered it. She had inherited it.
Her mom had played it once. Maybe even written it.
Suddenly, everything felt heavier. This wasn't just a song. It was a message. A memory. A part of something that had been hidden for a long time-and now it was coming back. That's when the knock came. It was soft. Slow.
Elara froze.
No one ever visited this place. No one should know where she lived. She stood up slowly, holding the violin in one hand and the blade in the other. She moved quietly toward the door. Another knock. This time, it was louder. She opened the door just a little. No one was there. Just a folded piece of paper on the floor. She picked it up and closed the door fast. When she unfolded it, she read one line:
"They know."
- Writer
