Chapter 21: The Sound That Bends Minds
Ash stood at the edge of the plaza.
People gathered around a man standing on a crate—young, sharp-featured, voice like silk dipped in fire.
He wasn't shouting.
He was vibrating.
Words came out like songs.
But it wasn't speech.
It was spellwork disguised as poetry.
"Don't think.
Feel.
Don't resist.
Receive."
The crowd swayed.
Eyes glazed.
Breathing synchronized.
Ash could feel the shift—the field changing.
Not enlightenment.
Entrainment.
He had seen this before—on a rooftop, in another version of himself.
Power misused not with fists, but with frequency.
This man was a mirror of what Ash could have been.
Ash stepped closer.
With each step, his own breath slowed.
Om.
Ah.
Hum.
Not loud.
Not visible.
But real.
The speaker turned. Their eyes met.
A flicker. Recognition.
Not of person, but of power.
"You're not with them," the man said, still rhythmically.
"You're… still resisting."
Ash didn't respond.
He closed his eyes.
Om at the crown—White light.
Ah in the chest—Red flame.
Hum at the root—Blue earth.
Then he exhaled.
Not through lungs,
but through space.
A pulse left his body, quiet and clean.
No sound.
Just stillness.
The crowd paused. Some blinked.
A few looked around as if waking from dream.
The speaker flinched. His voice cracked.
"What… did you just do?"
Ash opened his eyes.
"I realigned the field."
"With silence?"
"With truth."
The speaker growled.
"Then take it back. They don't want the truth. They want release."
"Release without awareness is just another form of sleep."
For a moment, nothing moved.
Two frequencies stood in stillness, pulsing.
Then the man stepped down.
Shaken. But not destroyed.
"You'll lose," he muttered.
"Maybe," Ash said.
"But I'll be awake when I do."
The crowd dispersed slowly, confused but free.
Ash turned toward the night.
He wasn't here to control.
He was here to anchor.
And the city was just beginning to notice.
To be continued….