Challenges and Propositions From The Revolution

Metal clanked shut with heavy, disregarded force as Azag sealed the door behind them. The Revolution had come to visit. Before Sayane stood five members of The Revolution’s council of leaders. Erosc seemed to be the leader of this contingency.

His presence was intimidatingly weathered. Every step sent a guttural growl through his barrel-sized chest. Chipped fangs jutted out from his lips along with tusks that were larger than Sayane’s hands. No one seemed to wish to speak first.

Azag limped past the group and sat in his chair for rest. Erosc huffed in quiet judgement.

“Azag, we need a moment of privacy,” he said with stern seriousness.

Azag’s blank mask tilted with an annoyance that Sayane could sense even in the absence of visible expressions.

“I’m sorry, I seem to recall that this was MY establishment,” growled Azag as his finger tapped on the metal bar top.

“And I seem to remember you are not a part of The Revolution. And this is Revolution business,”challenged Erosc.

“Given I’m still alive, that proves I’m not a part of your ridiculous death wish masquerading as insurrection. Tell me, how many did you lead to the slaughter the other day?!” Azag said with a dangerous bite in his voice that Sayane had never heard.

“Careful, boy, or you will find yourself on the wrong side of my grace,” snarled Erosc as he took a step toward the bar.

Azag couldn’t help himself.

“At this point, it seems being your enemy gives me a better chance at survival than being your ally, Erosc!”

“Enough!!” Attis shouted from behind them.

It was a booming, dense shout that shook Sayane’s ribs. Once more, she had never heard her companion’s voice sound like that. Attis’s command was enough, and the two adversaries stopped their quarrel. Erosc hissed as he turned and scanned the low-lit room.

“The first songstress to exist in the world in over one hundred years. And you have her locked away in this degrading house of intoxication.”

“I’m not locked away here,” Sayane said without meaning to speak.

Her words had escaped unintentionally and faint. Barely louder than a whisper. Before she was even finished speaking, a flash of regret struck her. But still, she spoke up. Every being in the room turned to her. Aside from Erosc, who stood defiantly rigid, the other four Councilors all bowed slightly when facing Sayane, who dared to repeat herself.

“I am not a captive. I asked Azag if I could stay, and if I could help him. He saved Attis and I from the battle when I arrived. If… if not for him, I would be dead. Please, do not make assumptions about me at his expense.”

None of them spoke.

“I… I like being here,” Sayane said in conclusion.

“Songstress, that does not change the fact that you should be somewhere more guarded. The Revolution could bring you to our stronghold, where we could watch over you and let you live in comfort,” offered one of the Councilors.

“While you debate on how to best use her for your own strategies,” Azag challenged.

All of the Councilors seemed annoyed but none could offer a retort. Something about the proposition did not sit well with Sayane. Though she did not yet understand the complexities of her situation, she knew what it felt like to be used for others’ gain, and this offer felt similar to that.

Sayane shook her head in rejection.

“Attis told me personal autonomy was one of the most important things, and I agree. I WANT to stay here, with Azag, and Attis. Thank you for the offer, but I must decline.”

Erosc let out a slight roar as he spoke.

“Foolishness! This she-hume is barely beyond childhood and if the rumors are true is an ethereal. She knows nothing of this world or how important she actually is to our struggle! Forgive me, but I cannot abide leaving you unguarded in the slums!!” he shouted.

“I am not a child. I know full well what struggle and hardship and loss feels like. I may not know war, or revolution, or what power I have, or WHY I’M EVEN HERE! But I know what feels right, and that feeling tells me to stay here!” Sayane challenged as she stepped forward in courage.

This voice of hers was different. It had been years since she spoke up or directly challenged anyone. Something in her mind had shifted. At this point, she had already died once before and had already been kidnapped and tortured. Fear still existed in her heart, but bravery had begun to blossom.

Erosc stepped towards her. His silver eyes shined red and frightening as he leaned down slightly to look at her.

“Before The Silence slaughtered every last one of them, the songstresses were once the most sacred priestesses of our world. Their music and song kept peace, brought healing, and soothed entire nations of their wartorn hatred. But you are insistent on sitting here in this tavern. So be it. If that is what you choose, then you are no songstress. You are just a girl who can sing.”

His words cut deep into Sayane’s heart. Even though he knew nothing of her past life, as Sayane heard his stabbing attack, she could not help but agree. In the end, all she had ever amounted to was being a girl who sang…

Erosc exhaled in frustrated acceptance. His battle was lost. He scowled at Attis.

“I question your commitment to this revolution, dear Attis. But I will entrust this… supposed songstress’s safety in your hands. If any harm befalls her, may all who come after us curse your name.”

Attis inhaled and nodded.

“I accept. Erosc, you must understand this is all unplanned. I have reflected nightly since the songstress’s arrival. For all of our discussions of intentional plans, theory, and strategy, we are still losing.”

“But, then, out of nowhere, this ethereal songstress appears. None of our plans of theories every accounted for that! But here we are! So maybe it’s time we adjusted. Became more flexible. That is what I feel, and I will stand by it. But on my life, I will not let any harm befall the songstress,” Attis said with a deep bow.

Sayane felt his small paw touch her hand with a slight tremble.

“Nor will I. The songstress will be safe here, I give you my word,” agreed Azag.

The rest of the Councilors bowed, but Erosc could not fully accept. Even in defeat, he had to keep challenging.

“Let us see what the worth of a Rabal’s word is…” he snarled as he turned.

“Erosc! Enough!” said one of the other Councilors.

Though she did not grasp the context, Sayane knew this was a demeaning statement. Azag seemed indifferent to the slight. As the group accepted its defeat and turned to leave, Sayane had one final thing to say.

“Sayane.”

They all stopped to look back at her once more. Sayane inhaled and set her feet. Her heart seemed like it was about to crack her ribs, and her hands felt cold, but she had to speak.

“My name is Sayane. I may not be a songstress yet, or ever. I may not know what I’m doing, but I am a person. And my name is Sayane.”

Erosc chuffed then unlatched the door. No one spoke another word as the five guests exited. As soon as the lock was sealed, Sayane’s tears returned. Though she tried to stop them, they flowed hot and stung her face as they fell.

“Song- Sayane?” Attis asked as he petted her hand.

“I don’t know what any of this means!” Sayane cried in exhausted frustration.

“Why do The Silence and The Revolution want me?! Why does Can-Mo cry upon meeting me?! Why am I here?! Why me?!”

None of these questions were new, but it didn’t change the fact that none of them had been answered. All of Sayane’s existence was now a mystery, and more importantly, all of it was hinged on her being some sort of mystical singer. But her song was still gone. Her voice was weak. Hollow. Music had left her heart, and that made her feel even more ashamed.

What good was a songstress in this world if she had no song?

With that sadness now tearing through her and robbing her of the wonder and joy she had felt a few mere hours ago, Sayane resigned herself to her room. There, she cried herself to sleep once more.