The second bell had just ceased its vibration, leaving behind a low hum that caused the palace windowpanes to tremble slightly. Rainnes Juoi slipped out of her room, draped in a dull grey cloak to mask her bone-white gown, which was far too conspicuous.
The palace's back garden was a labyrinth of withered vines—a place rarely visited due to its scent, which resembled rusting iron. In the center of the garden, beneath the shadow of an angel statue with a shattered head, a man stood motionless.
His black armor seemed to swallow the light of the distant golden lanterns. The man did not move an inch, looking as though he were a part of the darkness itself.
"You came," the man's voice was low and heavy, sending a strange vibration down Rainnes' spine.
Rainnes stopped several paces behind him. "Who are you? And why did Lady Anne send you?"
Harold turned. Under the reddish moonlight, his scarred face looked like a rugged battlefield map. His eyes were sharp, scanning every inch of Rainnes' face as if searching for signs of damage.
"My name is Harold," he said tersely. "And I am not here to save you, Holy Maiden. I am here to stop the catastrophe you bring."
Rainnes took a step back, her hands trembling. "I don't want to bring catastrophe! Prince William said my voice was a blessing—"
"A blessing?" Harold let out a short laugh, a sound like clashing metal. "Follow me."
Harold grabbed Rainnes' hand, leading her behind a thicket that concealed a large air vent leading to the Cathedral's basement. He handed her a small, funnel-shaped silver device—another piece of Anne's alchemy.
"Listen," Harold commanded.
Rainnes pressed her ear to the funnel. Suddenly, she heard something far more horrifying than the Whispering Hollows. Down there, in the darkness, thousands of people were groaning. It wasn't the sound of prayer, but the sound of gasping breaths, forcibly drawn by steam engines ticking in rhythm with the song she had sung the night before.
"That is the resonance chamber," Harold whispered near her ear. "William uses your voice as a key to turn giant gears. The people's energy is squeezed from their bodies to charge the 'Sound Stones.' Every time you sing, they die a little more."
Rainnes pulled the funnel away, her face deathly pale. "Impossible... William wouldn't do that..."
"William loves you as a tool, not a human," Harold gripped Rainnes' shoulders, forcing her to face reality. "Tomorrow, they will take you to the High Altar for the 'Coronation Song.' If you sing there, those engines will spin at full speed. You will slaughter half the Capital's population in a single night."
Rainnes fell to her knees on the cold earth. Tears fell from her red eyes, staining her grey cloak. "Then what should I do? I cannot run... This crown... I can feel it tracking me."
"You won't run," Harold reached for something beneath his armor—a small crystal pulsing with a sea-blue frequency, the frequency of Anne Marie Vain. "You will stay there. You will sing. But you will not sing for them."
Harold handed the crystal to Rainnes. "Hide this under your tongue during the ceremony tomorrow. This crystal will convert your voice frequency into a destructive wave. Instead of siphoning the people, you will shatter the organ mechanism beneath the altar."
"And what will happen to me?" Rainnes asked softly.
Harold stared at her in silence for a moment. "Maybe you will die. Or maybe you will be free. But at least, you will not be a murderer."
Suddenly, the sound of approaching knight sentries echoed.
"Go," Harold ordered, vanishing back into the shadows. "Remember, Rainnes. Do not listen to their song. Listen to your own heartbeat."
Rainnes ran back toward her tower, clutching the blue crystal as if it were the only lifebuoy in a sea of blood. She did not realize that from a high balcony above, William de Croul stood watching the garden with a smile that never faded.
"The bait has been taken," William whispered to the darkness beside him. "Harold was always far too merciful."