Creak awoke to the sound of merry celebration and voices full of jolly. Singing. She could hear the sound of melodic voices blending together in a lovely melody. More voices joined in with a counter melody and some harmony. Creak had only ever heard singing from her mother's voice, she had never heard the music from someone else. How was it possible? How could so many know of the song after music had become illegal?

The sound brought tears to her eyes. The relief of not being the only musician left in Florencia left her overwhelmed. She had to find it, she had to join them and help in whatever way she could.

Pushing herself into a sitting position, Creak groaned in pain. With the pain came the night's events and the remembrance of what had happened. She had been shot with a crossbow, left to bleed on someone's floor. What happened after that? She had passed out and now she was in someone's bed, her wounds cleaned. Someone had found her and saved her. Someone other than her brother cared at least enough to keep her alive, instead of throwing her out on the streets to die like any rational forencian would.

The room Creak was in was not the same one that she had climbed into to escape the Carsons. This new room was smaller with no windows, leaving the place to be lit with the flame of a single candle resting in a faded brass luster on the nightstand beside her. Shadows glared darkly in the far reaches of the room, leaving Creak to squint at the outline of a door on the far wall.

Shifting out of the quilt that covered her, Creak gasped in pain as pins and needles shot down her arm. Instinctively her left arm went to her right, gripping it until the pain subsided into a dull throbbing. Her head was pounding and it took her a moment to remember that her forehead had been cut and was now wrapped in a cloth that circled tightly around her head.

Gingerly she placed a foot on the ground and retracted it quickly as the cold took hold. "Burr," she shook and mumbled to herself. "Why is always so cold in this stupid village?" Of course it was a rhetorical question, but the grimness inside her, who she often referred to as Gorgos Ammon, answered her own question. "The mountains are only a few days ride away and it's the middle of the winter, you idiot. Just be glad you don't live in the Arkenine Mountains where it always snows."
Creak shook her head, "Yeah, it's a miracle RiverFall rarely gets snow. The rancid stuff is freezing and god knows I hate the cold."

"Well, be greatfully because your life could definitely be worse."
"Yeah, could be worse," Creak repeated, shaking the thought out her her head.

Glancing from the cold, wooden floor to the door across the room, Creak muttered to herself, "Might as well get this over with."

Clenching her jaw, Creak went all in and jumped out of the warm bed and into the cold that awaited her. Jumping from foot to foot, Creak gripped her right arm as the pain returned almost bringing her to her knees. "Ouch," she winced.

After all the pain, cold, and other unpleasant feelings subsided, Creak got a hold of herself. Letting go of her injured arm to grab ahold of the handle to the candle luster, Creak tiptoed to the door. As she got closer the sound of singing seemed come and meet her, begging her to break the law and join in.

"How can so many people be breaking the law together and not get caught? Aren't they worried they'll get arrested and hung for treason?"

Gorgos Ammon answered, "They don't care. They're showing the king that he can't scare them into leaving what they love. They're willing to die for what they love. They're not cowards, like you. You should want to die for music, but instead you let the king control your life."

Anger took Creak, "I'm not a coward! The king doesn't scare me and I would gladly die for a cause that I love." She hesitated, "But Stans... I couldn't leave my brother."

"Him! You would do nothing and let the king control you because your brother tells you to. He's holding you back, you spin less slug! Do something for the good of everyone even if it doesn't please that weak brother of yours! It's the world or your brother, you can't please everyone!"

Creak gasped, "What has the world ever done for me? As for my brother... he loves me, takes care of me. Kept me alive when I young and our parents left us to die in the streets. You know as well as I do that fighting for what I love is on my own agenda, not for the world. I would be choosing between selfishness or selflessness. I have to choose my brother, the only one I love and the only one who loves me."

Having had enough inner conflict, Creak shook her head and swung the door open. Stepping into a narrow hallway aglow with several metal chandeliers filled with burning candles, Creak set her own candle on a short table beside the door. With all the light in the hall she wouldn't be needing it.

The singing filled the passage, drawing her forward to a door at the far end of the old corridor. The door was made of solid oak with a brass doorknob whose shine had long since worn away. The knob was different though, beautiful in a way Creak couldn't understand as she stared captivated. The design was dull, but still seeable. An instrument, long and elegant, with many keys and connecting pieces. It's mouthpiece was weird because it didn't really seem to be there, just a hole in the side of the instrument near the top. Creak wasn't educated in the different types of musical devices, so she had no way of identifying it. All she knew was that it wasn't anything like a baritone or trumpet, the only two wind instruments she knew of.

Whatever it was it was beautiful and as the music from the other side of the door beckoned to her, she imagined one day hearing the sounds it could make. In a time where music was free and filled the world with its melody.

She gently stroked the doorknob and turned it until she heard the click of the door opening. She pushed her way through and was introduced to a new world, a world with songs.

Men, women, and children of all ages danced in what appeared to be a tavern. Drinks were passed from hand to hand as their carefree voices filled the room. The room was small and crammed full of people, so many they were all touching elbow to elbow. The people were strange. Even though the ages varied they all had an uncanny resemblance to each other. Every single person in the room had creamy, white skin and thick, dark hair of different lengths. They all had the same eyes, a pale blue as clear as crystals.

Creak knew she would have a hard time blending in, with her tan skin and light, brown hair in its normal mess of loose curls and waves. But when she walked into the room it was as if they couldn't see her. No one turned to look, even as the door slammed behind her. "What's wrong with them?" Creak whispered.

"They're enjoying themselves. Maybe you should learn from them."

"No," Creak shook her head. "Somethings not right. They should've reacted to the door closing. They should stopped singing, they should be on guard. It's not safe to sing in Florencia."

"We should leave."

For once Creak couldn't agree more with Gorgos. It wasn't safe, they had to leave. She began to weave through the sifting bodies, the claustrophobic inside her cringing as she was pressed between two people.

She tried not to look at the people around her which wasn't hard because she was shorter than most of them. A little boy bumped against her leg and looked up. Shaggy black hair shifted out of his blue eyes, which seemed glazed over and oddly lifeless. Creak gasped at his dead eyes before he pushed past her and became lost on the crowd.
Shaking from fear, Creak looked up into the faces of the people dancing around her. They were dead, all of their eyes glazed over and lifeless unlike the music they continued to make.

"What is this?" Creak whispered even though no one would be able to hear her with all the noise in the room.

"They're dead," Gorgos answered. "Go you idiot! If we don't get out here we'll be joining them! Quick the door is over there!"

Creak looked at the door. It wasn't too far, just a few feet really, but so many people seemed to be hovering over it. They hadn't seemed to notice her yet, so maybe she would be safe.

Keeping her head down, Creak weaved through the people, avoiding their contact at all costs. She had to be getting close, but every time she looked up the door was still just a few feet away. It was like she was getting nowhere, for every step forward she took she also took one step back. Panic flooded her brain, making any coherent thought confusing and useless.

Creak ran. She pushed the people, shoving past them in an attempt to reach the door. Still they continued to dance and gradually the singing became louder until it was all that could be heard. All Creak's thoughts silenced by the sound, even Gorgos who hadn't been quiet since the day her parents had left her and Stans.

Suddenly, as all the dead eyes were burning into her memory, the door was kicked open and royal guards began to pour in. The singing turned into screams as swords were drawn and the vocalists were cut down like stalks of wheat. Creak sank to her knees and covered her ears in an attempt to block out the chilling sound.

It was over so fast and took only a few minutes for the guards to leave, abandoning the bodies where they lay fallen. Creak looked up from her spot on the floor, the only place free of the crimson blood that painted the room.

Their eyes were all still open. Dead, cold, crystal blue eyes all staring right at her, as if blaming her for the massacre. Shaking, she got to her feet and looked at the blood. Blood that dripped down her arm from the newly opened wound on her shoulder. She watched as the red, dripped from her fingertips to fall to the floor and mixed with the blood of the dead singers.

Tears blurred her vision as she continued to stare at the drops, unable to look away.

"They're dead," she choked on the words as they came out. "All dead..."
Gorgos remanded silent.

Creak forced herself to look away from the blood and to the door, which now blew open in the wind. It hung on only one hinge, the other had been broken when the guards had kicked it in.

A torn piece of paper clung onto the door, held in place by a bent nail. The scratchy writing scrawled across it read,
'Let This Be A Warning To All Who Think They Are Above The King's Law.'

"Let this be a warning to you, Creak."

Creak jumped as a voice from behind her spoke. It was a soft, singsong kind of voice. Beautiful and unthreatening.

She turned around to meet the voice's source and what she saw was a creature of fantasy. Pointed ears and catlike, green eyes were distinguishing features that told Creak the person before her was an elf. He was a male, with sharp features and a lean muscled form. A powerful predator, that's what stood before her and he was beautiful.
Creak felt herself redden at the sight of him, he looked young maybe only two years older than her and he sure was handsome.

"What do you mean?" Her voice shook in awe despite her best efforts to conceal it.

"A warning," the elf said, his deep voice making her heart hammer.

"What you have just witnessed is an event from the past, right at the birth of a new era. The death of music affected many, children of musicians were killed as an example and to prevent any future generations from knowing of music. But a few survived. Music has lived on, passed down through the families that remember. You're lucky, Creak. Lucky to know the beauty of sound. I'm here to warn you that they're coming. Rumors have spread of strange, foreign sounds in the forests, the sounds that you have made. The king has sent knights to investigate. Leave and journey to the mountains, I'll wait for you there and take you to safety."

Questions buzzed in her mind, but before she could say anything the elf was gone. Darkness surround her once more, but Creak had to know one thing. "What's your name?" She called into the darkness with the hope that he would hear her and answer.

When no response came she sighed and mumbled to herself, "Guess I just call you Bane." Then the darkness took her, whispering in her ear a warning.