The melody of pain

**Kelly Thompson's POV**

The city of glass and gold hums with a melody that isn’t sound—it’s a *vibration*, a frequency that reshapes the air into jagged harmonies. My teeth ache, my bones ringing like tuning forks. Eden walks ahead, his steps steadier now, but his hands keep flexing as if missing the gauntlets’ weight. The city’s gates yawn open, unguarded, their opalescent surfaces reflecting distortions of our faces—mine etched with storm, his with a crown of shadows.

A figure waits on the bridge, her silhouette blurred by the warped light. As we near, the distortion clears. My breath catches.

*Lila.*

Not the Lila I remember—thorn-scarred and snarling—but a polished version, her skin flawless, hair coiled in gilded braids, eyes twin pools of liquid mercury. She smiles, and the melody sharpens.

“Hello, Kelly,” she says, her voice syrup-smooth. “You look like hell.”

Eden steps forward, fists clenched. “You’re dead. I watched you die.”