Songbird

Chapter Twenty-Two - Magus

The collar was cold against Wren's neck as two of Briar's guards shoved her into a dark room in the sprawling manor they had reached after a few days' travel. Her knees collided with the stone floor, leaving painful scrapes. Staggering to her feet, she flung herself at the door as it slammed shut, beating on the thick wood until her hands bruised.

"Let me out of here! Let me out!"

There was no answer. She sank to the cold floor and buried her face in her hands, pulling her knees up to her chest. The room was pitch-black—she might as well have been blind. She scratched at the collar, but it was smooth all the way round, with no sign of a seam or latch, and panic began to flutter inside her chest. She couldn't use her magic. Somehow she knew that the collar was responsible, heavier than it should be, its cold emptiness seeping into her bones.

A noise from inside the room startled her, a soft scratching of something moving around. She shrank into the corner, squeezing her eyes shut despite the complete darkness, and waited for the worst as the noise drew closer and closer.

"Miss...?"

Her eyes flew open at the voice of a child. Was she hallucinating? As her vision began to adapt to the dark, a figure melted into view, a little boy regarding her from hands and knees. He wore a collar like hers.

"Are you alright, miss?" he asked.

Incredulous and appalled, she wiped the tears from her eyes. Her stomach churned at the thought of a child trapped in this abyssal chamber. "I-I'm fine, honey. Whatever are you doing here?"

"I dunno," the boy said. "I was playing outside an' a man grabbed me an' took me here."

Wren thought she would be sick. "What's your name, honey?"

"Tom."

"I'm Wren," she said. "It's going to be alright, Tom."

"Who's she, Tom?" Another voice spoke from the other side of the room.

Wren's vision continued to improve, revealing to her horror the group of children huddled in the opposite corner. Each of them wore a collar. Some were dressed in nightclothes, while others were fully clothed, but they were all gaunt, with red-rimmed eyes that watched her with wary interest.

"Hello, everyone," she said. It was all she could do not to break down in tears at the sight of them. "I'm Wren. Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

They crowded around her, some of the younger ones crawling into her lap or leaning against her shoulders.

"You're pretty."

"Are those tattoos?"

"Do you know why we're here?"

"Can you do magic?"

Her heart froze at the last question. She had suspected that there was no other reason for the children to be here, but she had hardly believed it possible. Magic lived again.

"I can," she said. "Well, I can't right now. These collars are stopping us."

The little girl at her side sniffled. "I wanna go home..."

Wren put an arm around her as more of the children began to cry. "Hush now...shh...you'll be able to go home soon, honey, I promise."

But many of the children were becoming inconsolable, and with no other idea of how to calm them, Wren began to sing. Her soft voice echoed around the walls of the chamber, and the sobbing gradually faded as the children became drowsy. She sang every lullaby she could remember from the orphanage, until her own head grew heavy and she joined the children in their slumber.