The silence grated. The sounds of the shuffling bodies was worse. Cara put her hands over her ears. It was like the crypt. Like the first, dark hell where she’d been lost. Before Ser Dalius.

Ser Dalius. The young woman looked up. She heard Idelt whispering, the terrified [Cellist] whimpering.

The sounds of the dead.

Damn them all. Cara’s temper flared. This was no way to live. If they broke down that damn door—she didn’t want to have spent her last hours cowering in fear. In silence.

In the darkness and dying lantern light, the bright glow of a screen lit up the room. Cara flicked across the screen, noting the battery.

21%. To hell with that, too. This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t a performance for art, or vanity. The young woman selected a song. This was for a crying girl. A brave girl, who just needed to hear—

Music.

——

Violetta was huddled next to her door, trying to listen to Idelt’s voice. But something was scraping against the shutters. Trying to break into her room. She was crying.

“Father. Open the door. Please?”

“I cannot.”

“Please?”

Her voice broke. But the door did not move. And he had barricaded it from his end. So the girl wept. As she had many nights before. Her father sat there, head bowed. He had lived for decades like this—the fear never went away. But he had internalized it. It was harder to listen to his daughter’s tears.

The two Geisharts didn’t hear the music at first, muffled as it was by the tears, the sound of bodies outside, and their beating hearts. But then they heard the faint notes in the darkness.

The piano was quieter this time. Violetta caught her breath on a sob. It was a sad melody, those first few bars. And Cara’s voice was low. At first—it sounded like she was just talking to them.

“Cara?”

Violetta looked up, confused. But the voice didn’t answer her. Idelt turned. He wanted to tell her to be silent. But the undead didn’t use their ears.

Then—he saw something. A spark of light. It shimmered in the air, a firefly’s mote of brilliance. But it wasn’t yellow, mortal light. It shone green, like the grass of another world.

Violetta gasped. She saw a pink flare of light, hovering in the air. She had never seen color like that. It spun into existence and out of it too quickly; she felt a pang as it vanished. But then another spark appeared. It shone like the blue skies Cara had told her of.

The music began to swell. The tempo picked up, and a drum began to play. Not just from the tiny speakers; Cara began to thump her hands on the wall, drowning out the sounds from the door. She sang louder as the guitar played.