Chapter 4 : The Songs in the Walls

The song echoed through the tower like a voice rising from a grave.

Every candle in the chamber flickered blue.

The captain crossed himself. “Your Majesty…”

Ronan was already moving.

“Stay here,” he ordered me.

I laughed once, breathless from fear. “You’ve learned nothing about me.”

His eyes flashed with irritation. “This is not a game, Lyra.”

“And locking me in a tower while a ghost sings through the walls is supposed to make me feel safe?”

The melody drifted upward again—haunting, beautiful, wrong. It carried a sorrow so deep it made my chest ache.

Ronan cursed under his breath.

“Fine,” he said at last. “You stay beside me and do exactly as I say.”

That was the closest thing to permission I was likely to receive.

The captain led us from the chamber. Guards flooded the corridor, their armor rattling as another tremor shuddered through the tower. Dust fell from the ceiling.

The song grew louder.

As we descended the spiral staircase, I noticed something strange: the silver mark on my wrist pulsed in time with the melody.

Ronan noticed too.

His gaze lingered on my wrist for a heartbeat too long.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.

“Only when it glows.”

“Tell me if the pain changes.”

The concern in his voice unsettled me more than his coldness ever had.

We reached the lower corridors of the palace. The air turned damp and cold, carrying the scent of stone and old water. Torches hissed against the darkness.

The guards stopped before a massive iron gate engraved with crescent moons.

One of them swallowed hard. “This seal has never opened in my lifetime, Your Majesty.”

Ronan placed his palm against the metal.

Black shadows spread from his hand, slipping into the carvings. Ancient locks groaned, and the gate slowly opened.

A gust of freezing air rushed out.

The song stopped.

Silence crashed over us.

I suddenly wished it would start again.

Ronan drew a black-bladed sword from his side. The metal drank the torchlight.

“Stay behind me.”

We entered a narrow passage that sloped downward into darkness. Water dripped from the ceiling. My footsteps echoed too loudly.

Then I saw the bodies.

Three guards lay sprawled across the stone floor.

Their eyes were open.

Their throats were untouched.

No blood.

No wounds.

Just terror frozen on their faces.

The captain knelt beside one corpse. “Gods…”

Ronan crouched near the nearest body. His expression became unreadable.

I forced myself to look closer.

Something had been carved into the stone beside the dead men.

MOONBORN

The letters were cut deep enough to crack the floor.

A chill crawled up my spine.

“I didn’t do this,” I whispered.

Ronan stood. “I know.”

The certainty in his voice startled me.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because if you had, the bodies would still be screaming.”

Before I could ask what that meant, a soft whisper brushed my ear.

“Lyra.”

I spun around.

No one stood there.

The guards exchanged nervous glances.

“You heard it too?” I asked.

“No one spoke,” the captain said.

The whisper came again.

“Lyra…”

This time it came from the darkness ahead.

Without thinking, I stepped forward.

Ronan caught my wrist instantly.

The mark flared silver beneath his touch.

“Don’t,” he warned.

The whisper turned into a distant laugh.

I stared into the tunnel. Far ahead, a pale figure stood between the pillars, barely visible in the gloom.

Silver hair.

A crown.

Queen Selene.

My heart lurched.

“She’s there.”

The guards saw nothing.

Ronan’s grip tightened. “What do you see?”

“A woman.”

His face darkened.

The figure lifted one hand and beckoned.

A violent headache exploded through my skull.

Moonlight flashed behind my eyes.

For a single heartbeat, I saw the corridor not as it was now, but as it had been centuries ago.

Torches burned bright.

Blood covered the floor.

A woman in white was dragged through the passage in chains while priests chanted around her.

Ronan appeared beside me in the vision, though younger, dressed in royal black.

No—not Ronan.

A king who wore his face.

The chained woman looked directly at me.

“Remember,” she whispered.

The vision shattered.

I staggered.

Ronan caught me before I hit the ground.

“What happened?”

I clutched his arm. “I saw her. She was dragged through this corridor. A king was with her… he looked like you.”

Ronan’s expression became dangerously still.

“The bloodline remembers,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Another tremor shook the passage.

Stone cracked overhead.

A guard cried out as part of the ceiling collapsed behind us, sealing the way back with a roar of falling rock.

Panic erupted among the soldiers.

“We’re trapped!”

“Silence!” Ronan thundered.

The shadows around him surged outward, steadying the torches and swallowing the dust.

The men obeyed instantly.

I stared at him.

Power radiated from him like a storm.

For the first time, I understood how he ruled an entire kingdom through fear alone.

A faint humming drifted through the corridor.

Not the ghostly song.

This was deeper.

Older.

It seemed to come from the walls themselves.

My mark burned hotter.

Ronan felt it through our joined hands.

“Something is waking,” he said.

The pale figure appeared again farther down the passage.

Selene smiled sadly.

Then she vanished through a narrow archway.

I stepped toward it before Ronan could stop me.

The arch opened into a circular chamber lit by an eerie silver glow. In the center stood a black stone altar wrapped in ancient chains.

The humming became deafening.

My mark blazed.

The chains rattled.

Ronan moved in front of me, sword raised.

“Get back.”

A crack split the altar.

Silver light burst through it.

The chains snapped one by one.

The final chain broke with a sound like thunder.

The altar exploded.

A wave of freezing wind swept through the chamber, extinguishing every torch.

Darkness swallowed us.

Then two silver eyes opened in the blackness.

And a woman’s voice whispered beside my ear—

“At last.”