Page 51 of Awakened

A veil lifts, and suddenly I can see what I hadn’t before.

The bird is locked away. A prisoner in a golden cage, hopelessly fighting to spread its wings and escape.

Now when our eyes meet, I can see its plea for help.

It’s begging me to free it, and despite everything in my soul urging me to do just that…

I don’t.

I just stand here, watching it struggle. Ignoring its plea.

Hating myself.

Eventually, it loses interest—and faith—in me, and turns away. My chest aches, a sharp pain stabbing into my sternum over and over like something inside of me is being ripped apart.

But the bird never stops fighting. Over and over, it struggles. And over and over it fails when the tips of its wings hit the bars of its cage. Each time, instead of getting angry, it reassesses its situation.

It’s strategic. Patient. When it fails, it tries something new.

Fails, and tries again.

Falls… and gets back up.

I don’t know how long I watch, but suddenly, something shifts.

It’s no longer alone.

A shadow—a second pair of wings—rises up behind it like an omen.

A prophecy.

At this point, the bird’s voice is ragged—a broken, rasping chirp. A struggling melody that could have been sung for me, if I had only been worthy of it.

Instead, the bird sings only for the gentle moonlight shining down from above.

Its sound is broken. Scared. It longs for freedom. Yearns for love.

As the song morphs into something more desolate, it continues its fight to break free. It never stops. Never gives up.

And right before I wake, as I’m floating weightless in that strange space between dreams and reality, I finally understand.

The bird isn’t struggling to sing.

It’s struggling to speak.

Chapter 6

Idril

When I woke this morning, my body was more sore than it has been in weeks.

I wince as I stretch out my limbs, taking in my surroundings. Before I get far, my muscles spasm. The pain is intense, and trying to stay upright aches.

I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing. I wish I knew what time it was, but there are no clocks down here. There’s nothing here but the smell of mildew and stone and iron.

And Soren.

My heart flips as his scent hits me. My muscles relax, and I breathe in the scent of Christmas until it fills my veins. My body’s wracked with pain, but it’s almost manageable with his scent in my nose.