2. A Voice Buried in Silence

...THE CAPTIVE...

Silence has a sound.

People think it is empty.

It isn't.

It is the pounding of my heart whenever someone asks me a question I cannot answer.

It is the scratching of my pen across paper while everyone else speaks freely.

It is the thousand words trapped behind my lips.

I remember every one of them.

Sometimes I dream that I am speaking.

I hear my own laughter.

I hear my Mother's voice calling my name.

I hear Father's proud smile hidden behind a single, "Well done."

Then I wake up.

And there is nothing.

Only silence.

...

The council chamber felt colder than the winter rivers.

No one spoke after Father announced that the Kingdom of Nocthar had crossed the northern pass.

The generals argued over battle formations.

The ministers whispered about alliances.

Someone suggested surrender.

Someone else called it cowardice.

Their voices blended into meaningless noise while my eyes remained fixed on the black raven carved into the map.

A single wooden piece.

Such a small thing.

Yet everyone feared it.

Kael Draven. The Raven King.

A man I had never seen.

A man whose name mothers used to frighten restless children.

"Sleep, or the Raven King will come."

How strange.

The monster from bedtime stories was now marching toward my home.

Father suddenly looked at me.

"Eirene."

Every conversation stopped.

Dozens of eyes turned toward me.

I hated that feeling.

Not because they watched me.

Because they waited.

Waited for words they already knew would never come.

I reached for the notebook tucked beneath my sleeve.

The pages trembled slightly as I wrote.

How many soldiers?

Father read it aloud. "Approximately eighty thousand."

Eighty thousand.

My fingers froze.

Our kingdom barely had half that number.

The room fell silent again.

Then Father dismissed the council.

As everyone hurried away to prepare for war, I remained standing before the enormous map.

My fingers hovered above the raven emblem.

So close.

If I pushed it back...

If kingdoms could be saved that easily...

A warm hand rested gently upon my shoulder.

Mother.

"You've gone pale." I forced a smile.

It fooled no one.

She brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear exactly as she had when I was little.

"You remembered, didn't you?" I lowered my eyes.

Seven years ago.

The last day I ever spoke.

Blood soaked the white palace stairs.

A shattered chandelier.

A scream so loud it echoed inside me long after the sound itself disappeared.

My own.

After that day...

My voice never returned.

Physicians called it impossible.

Priests called it divine punishment.

Scholars searched for illnesses.

No one found an answer.

Only Mother stopped asking me to try.

She simply listened to my silence.

"I wish I could carry those memories for you," she whispered.

I squeezed her hand.

If only memories could be shared.

If only silence could be divided.

A loud horn echoed from beyond the palace walls.

One blast.

Then another.

Guards began running through the corridors.

The doors burst open.

A messenger stumbled inside, covered in dust and sweat.

He collapsed to one knee.

"Your Majesty..."

His voice shook.

"The northern fortress..." He struggled to breathe. "...has fallen."

My mother's fingers tightened around mine.

"The Raven King's army..." the messenger continued, "...did not stop there."

Every soul in the room held their breath.

"They're marching straight toward Lysoria."

Outside, thunder finally broke across the sky.

For the first time in years, I found myself wishing for something impossible.

Not victory.

Not peace.

Just one word.

One single word... so I could tell my kingdom that I was afraid.

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