Page 18 of Enslak

She spoke.

The voice sounded like the real Zarlak's, but underneath, just at the edge of my hearing, I caught something softer. Musical.

And the language—

The language made something deep in my chest crack open.

Vaktaire.

I knew that word. Knew it the way I knew my own heartbeat, even if I couldn't remember what it meant. The sounds were familiar. They felt right in a way nothing had felt right for—

How long?

Time didn't work anymore. I couldn't hold onto it.

But long. Very long.

The words washed over me. I struggled to catch them, to hold them long enough to understand. My mind was too broken. Too fractured. The language slipped through my thoughts like blood through claws.

But I caught pieces. Fragments.

"...must hurry..."

"...here to help..."

"...take you home..."

"...your family..."

Family.

The word made something in my chest twist and ache. I didn't know what it meant. Couldn't remember.

But the sound of it. The shape of it in the air.

It meant something. Something important. Something I'd lost.

I wanted to speak. Wanted to respond. Wanted to tell this gentle not-Zarlak that I understood. That I heard her. That something in me recognized the truth in her voice, even if I couldn't remember why.

But words wouldn't come.

They used to. I knew they used to.

But somewhere in the endless cycle of pain and blood, I'd lost them. Lost the ability to shape thoughts into sounds that meant anything.

So I did the only thing I could.

I nodded.

Just once. Slow and deliberate. So she'd know I understood. So she'd know I heard her.

Not-Zarlak's scent shifted. Something warm and pleased mixed with the flowers. She touched something at her throat, a scarf, my eyes registered, though I didn't know why that mattered, and spoke again.

More Vaktaire. More words I couldn't quite catch but felt in my bones.

"...the collar... remove it... must stay very still..."

The collar.