28. TWENTY EIGHT #2
I ignored him, pacing the room now. My footsteps echoed louder than they should have.
Every creak of the floorboards, every faint rustle of the curtains, every distant sound of the manor seemed magnified.
My senses felt raw, hyper-attuned to everything today.
I could hear the faint hum of Seraphina’s breathing, the barely audible creak of Cillian shifting in his chair, the muted grind of Fionn’s teeth.
And then I saw it, a polished old brown music box gleaming on a low table by the window. It hadn’t been there before. I was certain of it. Yet my attention was now drawn to it, its intricate carvings and moon symbols shone in the sunlight, and something about it called to me.
“Tilly?” Cillian’s voice was calm but sharp, his concern laced with suspicion.
“What are you doing?”
I didn’t answer as I walked across the room. My focus narrowed to the music box, its presence like a siren song pulling me in. My fingers trembled as I reached for it, the cool metal of its delicate key sending a jolt up my arm. I turned the key slowly, the resistance giving way to a soft click.
“Tilly,” Fionn’s voice snapped, his tone sharper now. He stood against the wall cautiously, his eyes narrowing. “What are you—”
As he spoke the Music spilled from the box, rich and haunting, blanking out his voice.
It filled the room, elegant ballroom notes twisting through the air like ghosts.
I loved how the sound drowned out everything else, the voices, the whispers, the suffocating silence.
I closed my eyes and let it wash over me, the tension in my chest loosening just enough to let me breathe.
“What are you doing?” Torin demanded, his tone teetering between amusement and irritation .
“Have you lost your mind?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned the volume up higher.
My gaze darted around the room, my breathing shallow as the voices rose in intensity.
The portraits on the walls seemed possessed, their painted eyes following me, their gazes piercing.
The golden light streaming through the windows twisted and bent, casting unnatural shadows that danced and writhed like living things across the room.
“Do you smell that?” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. The air felt dense, metallic, and acrid, like lightning splitting open in a storm.
“What’s she talking about?” Torin asked, his voice tinged with mockery, though I heard a flicker of unease beneath it.
I ignored them. My focus was slipping, my senses spiralling out of control. The whispers in my head were no longer whispers, they were screams clawing at my mind.
“You can’t fight it.”
“No,” I murmured, shaking my head.
I turned the music up higher, blocking them out..
As the music filled the room, the voices in my head stopped, their cries dimming against the sound. Relief surged through me, sharp and overwhelming. I closed my eyes, breathing in time with the melody.
And then I began to hum to its beautiful sound.
The tune fell from my lips, loud and discordant at first, before it settled into harmony with the music.
My voice rose, drowning out the whispers, the brothers, everything, completely.
My head throbbed, the burning mark above my temple pulsing with a fiery heat, a power, like I was in control.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. The music was my anchor, my shield.
“Tilly!” Cillian’s voice was louder now, urgent. “What are you doing? ”
“She’s gone mad. The inevitable has happened early,” Torin muttered, a nervous edge to his sarcastic-tinted words.
But I didn’t answer. My humming grew louder, more insistent, as I paced the room with my eyes closed. The music swirled around me, its melody merging with my voice, creating a barrier that nothing could penetrate.
“Damn it, Tilly, stop!” Fionn’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. He stepped away from the wall, closer, his expression a mix of anger and something else, was it concern? I couldn’t tell nor care.
“Leave her,” Seraphina said softly, her voice cutting through the brothers’ protests. Her gaze was fixed on me, her expression unreadable.
“She’s not breaking. She’s fighting. Lets’s see what her madness is truly capable of.”
“What?” Fionn turned to Seraphina, his brows knitting together.
“She’s controlling it,” Seraphina said, stepping closer towards my space.
“The voices,” I whispered, almost to myself, the words trembling on my lips.
“They never stop. Not ever. That is, it seems, until now.”
My entire focus was on the haunting melody weaving through the room like a spell.
The brothers watched me, their gazes heavy with unspoken thoughts.
I clung to it like a lifeline, using it to push the voices back.
For the first time, I felt a flicker of control and a spark of power.
The madness was mine to harness and mine alone.
No curse or whispering voices could take that from me.
Fionn froze, his expression shifting as if my words struck something deep within him. His piercing blue eyes, usually so cold and guarded, softened for a fleeting second. He took another step toward me, but this time his movements were slower, almost hesitant .
“What did you say?” he asked, his voice quieter now, was it concern or recognition, who knows?
Seraphina's eyes flicked to Fionn, something passing between them. Then she said.
“Fionn, show her. You must show her how to control it.”
I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. The mark on my temple burned like fire, pulsing with the rhythm of the music. “You said it before, didn’t you?” I whispered, my voice quavering but defiant. “You hear them too, don’t you? The voices. Just like me. You all hear them?”
Fionn’s jaw tightened, his body going rigid. His hands clenched at his sides, the muscles in his neck taut. For a moment, he didn’t answer, his gaze locked on mine, I could feel him searching and questioning what I asked.
“You do,” I said, louder this time, stepping toward him. “You told me earlier, you hear them.”
His breath hitched, almost subtly, but I caught it. “Tilly, you don’t understand what you’re dealing with. You don’t know what is inside, inside us all.”
“Don’t I?” I shot back. “I hear them every second of every day. The whispering and screaming they are always clawing at my mind. Just like you.” I gestured toward him, my voice rising.
“You know exactly what it feels like, Fionn. So don’t stand there and act like I’m losing it.
The music is the only thing helping me block them out. ”
His eyes darkened, I could see the rage behind them. “Tilly,” he began, his voice low, lacking the bite it usually carried. Instead, it wavered, as though he were holding back a secret he didn’t dare share.
“You hear them,” I repeated, softer now, my gaze steady. “What do they say to you?”
His voice broke through the tension. “You say the music is drowning them out?” He stepped closer to me ,
“Dance with me,” his hand outstretched, not a demand, but an invitation.
“Now the storm cloud Fionn has decided to play,” Torin let out an amused chuckle, as he walked towards Seraphina.
“Be quiet boy!” Seraphina snapped at Torin
I reached out and took Fionn’s hand. His touch was strong, yet his gaze burned with a deeper curiosity. It was grounding me even as the music carried me away.
“Focus on me,” he said, his words a firm whisper.
“Tilly. Let the rhythm be the only thing they can’t control and follow my steps.”
We moved together, twirling around the room our steps in perfect harmony with the fateful tune.
He pulled me into the centre of the room his grip firm and guiding.
As we danced the notes were bending to match our rhythm.
He leaned in, his voice barely audible above the music.
The voices in my head faded, further lost beneath the music.
“You're blocking them out and stopping them from reaching you,” Fionn said.
Cillian straightened in his chair, his jaw flexed. I noticed Cillian’s fingers curled against the armrest, knuckles whitening as Fionn’s hand remained firm at my back. Cillian’s eyes, usually so calm, became darker.
“None of the others silenced Vareth. They all succumbed to the noise.” Seraphina looked in awe as she spoke.
Fionn’s grip on me tightened slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Forget about them. Forget about everyone in this room.” I observed him cautiously as he spoke. “Tilly, focus on the music.” It was a demand, one that I welcomed.
Right now, I followed his command, no one else mattered.
They had no control over this. Right now, this was a plight only Fionn and I could bear.
A plight it seemed, we shared. I did as he said and lost myself to the music and just like that, the voices melted away.
I wondered if the music was calming his thoughts, too—if this was a glimpse into what he really enjoyed doing.
He knew the steps perfectly; he knew how to stand firm and lead, his body a steady anchor in the spinning of the room.
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around his. It was almost impossible to believe I was dancing with Fionn, now that I knew he heard the voices too.
“What do they tell you?”
He hesitated. Then he quietly said, “They tell us all different things.”
My pulse raced with each word that came out of his mouth “I want to know. Because the voices are in my head as well. I need to know.”
“Do you really want to know? Words can’t be withdrawn,” he said, the darkness returning to his eyes.
I ignored the hesitation inside of me and nodded. I couldn’t show fear. I had to hear what he had to say.
Fionn held my gaze for a lingering second.
“They want you dead.” His words came out almost silent.
I straightened, my fear becoming defiant.