Songs of Souls

016: A Brother's Broken Song

Deynfif ducked into the cramped recess of the Miers camp, his cloak brushing against the dust-laden air. A lone figure, Hirua, sat hunched in the shadows, brows knitted together in a frown. Hirua's fist clutched a golden amulet, its scarlet stone glowing faintly in the sliver of light piercing through a crack in the makeshift wall.

A thick silence filled the space, each breath held a weight of unspoken anxieties. A faint creak from the wooden wall echoed the tension. The traces of laughter from brighter days now felt like a distant memory, a painful reminder of what had been lost to the harsh truths of their mission. His gaze settled on Hirua. The tightness in his brother's jaw, the restless tapping of fingers against the amulet... a dissonant geometry to the carefree grin Hirua wore like a mask.

The urge to reach out, to offer a comforting word, warred with an unseen force, holding him rooted in place. The knot in his gut tightened. He dragged Hirua into this mess. Each potential word felt like a pebble, poised to either soothe or further irritate a raw wound. Which would it be? Curiosity and fear vied for control, a battle playing out within his thoughts. To ask more was to risk uncovering horrors. Yet, to remain silent... that felt like a betrayal of their bond.

He cleared his throat, the sound rough against the oppressive quiet. "Einntyr..." his voice barely a whisper. "What's keeping him?"

Hirua shrugged, a tremor running through him. "Don't know," he muttered, eyes glued to the amulet.

His eyes traced the room's rough geometry, each corner a dead end in the stifling silence. A solution had to exist, a way out of this... The air grew thick, each breath a struggle. He could feel the room's corners closing in, the walls pressing against his skin. Across the space, his brother's lips moved in a silent plea, his trembling fingers raising the amulet towards the sliver of light.

Einntyr burst through the opening, his gasp tearing through the tense silence. His chest heaved with ragged breaths. Einntyr's movements were stiff and strained, as though each shift pained him.

What could have happened out there to leave Einntyr this shaken? His stomach churned, and his breath caught in his throat. Einntyr, usually a whirlwind of energy, now stood hunched and breathless.

"Brothers," Einntyr muttered, chest heaving. "They're onto me."

His heart hammered against his ribs, a heavy silence broken only by the faintest echo of marching footsteps, fading into the distance. A dissonant counterpoint to Einntyr's rasping breaths.

"I had to lose them before coming here," Einntyr's voice strained.

His fingers instinctively clasped the familiar green scarf, its rough texture grounding against the chaos threatening to unravel his thoughts. "When did you first notice?"

Einntyr dragged a hand across his forehead. "Last night," he rasped. "Mingling with the soldiers, there were whispers along the rows of tents, eyes tracking my every move."

Despite the stifling air of the Miers encampment, a chill ran down his spine. His fingers clenched and unclenched, tracing patterns in the dust as if seeking answers in the disarray of the earthen floor. "So," his voice barely a whisper, "they know someone's been poking around their camp. But why no move to capture you?"

Einntyr's shoulders lifted then fell, his empty hands a silent echo of the question.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his shoulders stiffening. "This complicates things." he rasped, the words barely audible against the silence. "All the information we gathered... compromised."

His brother's nod mirrored the grim line of his own lips.

"Then there's no point in us staying here any longer." His breath caught, a shard of ice in his lungs. The pieces of their plan, once a sturdy foundation, now lay scattered like shattered rock.