Page 30 of The Blackened Blade

I had forgotten about this part of it.

‘Music of the Arts’.It's in the name, so how could I have forgotten?

I have tosing.

I never enjoyed this class, but it was one of the few available that didn’t require magic or any physical activity, so it was an easy choice to make.

My previous lifes music lessons and assessments involved me shakily singing, too low and nervous for anyone to properly hear, but then with all the snickering and whispers, it would have been hard for even a stronger singer.

It didn’t help that Seria had the voice of some opera house angel. Her voice was so soft and soothing, it made everyone fall silent in awe when she stood up and sang.

My voice, on the other hand, was too weak and would crack from nerves, but Seria would persuade me to continue. And back then I thought it was her showing her support and affection.

I grip the worksheet in my hand, scrunching its paper.

Back then I hated singing, and had hated the sound of my own voice as it left my lips.

Iusedto hate it…untilhetaught me how freeing it could be. Of how something as small as humming and singing in that cold cell could pull me from the pain and to a different place away from it all…to somewhere that the two of us only existed.

He's also the reason why I’ll never sing to another person again.

I rub the centre of my chest, a familiar ache building again with the thought of him. He was my only warmth and comfort there, the balm to my cold soul, and the only shred of hope I had in that hell…Zrael.

His rough gravelly voice calls to me, my name on his lips the last word I hear when I close my eyes every night, and his husky soulful voice singing to me to wake up each morning.

Whatever they had done to him in the Facility had damaged his vocal cords, his voice had a rough sound like gravel scraping down his throat. It sounded as if he was in pain with each syllable. It was only when he sang that his voice was legible, the magic laced in his melodies allowing him a freedom his broken voice wouldn't anymore.

And his voice…Godscould he sing.

If Seria was an angel, then Zrael was the devil himself, seducing me to join him in Hell. And with his husky timber and smooth-like-silk tones, I’d willingly give my soul over for a few minutes more of basking in his voice.

He showed me the true beauty of singing, and together we created our own small freedom away from the Facility, away from our cells and the hell we faced each day.

He was my strength, my safe haven, my home…buthe toowas taken from me.

The class bell rings just in time and pulls me from my darkening thoughts.

I look around the room, as the other students begin to pack up and slowly leave.

They make their way out of the classroom in their small groups, talking and laughing together as if nothing else mattered, even time.

Time.

Right, I amherenow. I had time. I could do something before the wheels begin to move.

I pull myself up, making my way down past the empty seats.

I watch on as Knox turns and glances back at me. He opens his mouth before quickly closing it again. His brows slightly pinch together with an unreadable look in his eyes. He meets my gaze once more, slowly opening his lips before his name is called from outside. He gives me one last strange look before turning toward the voice and quickly leaving the classroom.

What could he have possibly wanted to say? Was he going to tell me to stay away and not cause trouble?

I shake my head. I wouldn’t cause any trouble or come for Seria…yet.

I pulled out my class schedule; there was an hour for lunch and then Physical Defence class.

Just what I needed; something to eat and somewhere to blow off some steam.

CHAPTER8

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