Time seemed to stretch endlessly in the cage. The murky sky above, always heavy with a smoggy haze, offered no help in marking the passage of time. She couldn't tell if it had been days, weeks, or longer since she began singing to the Shadow in the pit below. What she did know was that every night, without fail, the voice would come, repeating its same cryptic words before falling silent and waiting for her to sing. And so, she sang—her voice a soft thread of sound in the suffocating darkness. As she sang, she began to notice that the voice would quiet after a while, the constant repetition ceasing.

Her heart beat in time with the soft rhythm of her melody, a small flicker of solace in her soul as she filled the silence with her song. After a few verses, when the stillness stretched and the Shadow grew quiet, she would speak to it, her voice a whisper that mixed with the notes she had just sung. "I will call you Shadow," she murmured into the chasm, "My voice from the shadows, since you will not give me your name. How does that sound?"

The deep, gravelly voice responded almost immediately, its tone warm, yet distant, like the earth itself speaking from the bowels of the world. "Voice from the Shadows," it said slowly, as if savoring the words, "I like that. What is your name, singer to the damned?"

Firefly's breath caught in her chest, a sad, hollow ache reverberating in her heart as she sighed. The truth was, she didn't remember her name. The crash, the collar, the endless days of torment and isolation—it had all blurred together, stealing that part of her identity. She rolled her eyes, a bitter smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "I don't know," she admitted softly, her voice breaking in the dark, "I don't remember."

It had been weeks, perhaps longer, since the crash, and the memory of her past was becoming more of a distant dream with each passing day. She thought back to the captain, his rough presence always lingering over the camp until one day he had simply disappeared, leaving the Second in command in his place. The Second, while a little less loathsome than the captain, had his own sickening tendencies. When the captain had gone, he often baited his men to try and get at her when his back was turned. Two men had already died trying to reach her—one, a coward who had tried to tear at her dress in broad daylight while she had been exhausted from her endless, tortured nights. She had been asleep, a moment of peace stolen from her, when his hands had suddenly closed around her, pulling at her. Her scream had ripped through the still air, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to shake him, stopping him for a second as she recoiled in shock. But the moment had been fleeting. Her collar had tightened painfully, choking the life from her as it restricted her throat.

She had felt the power surge from deep within her chest, that strange, otherworldly power that pulsed with the beat of her heart, pushing against the collar's grip. But her luck had run out as quickly as it had come. The Second had heard her screams and rushed in, killing the man with little hesitation before tossing him into the pit with a wicked, satisfied grin. That memory left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she quickly shook it off, focusing back on the dark hole below her. The Shadow's voice broke through her thoughts, warm and low.

"Then I shall call you Firefly..." the Shadow intoned. "Your voice is like a firefly in the night sky... I don't remember the night sky... Rendered small."

The words twisted in her chest, their sadness bleeding into her own sorrow. Rendered small, they echoed in her mind, a reflection of her own existence here. She had been stripped of her freedom, forced into this cage, yet in some strange way, she understood. She had been rendered small by the circumstances of her life—by the crash, by her captivity, by the collar that stifled her true self.

The Shadow began repeating its haunting refrain, its voice drowning out everything else, leaving Firefly with no choice but to sing. She closed her eyes, the sorrow of the words pulling her deeper into the rhythm of her own song. The melody became her refuge, her escape from the despair that threatened to consume her. As her voice wove through the air, she felt something stir within her. A strange sense of peace, as though the Shadow was finding solace in her song, just as she was.

When she finished, the name "Firefly" lingered in her mind, like an ember in the dark. She didn't know if it was the Shadow's doing or her own, but it felt right—her name now, something she could claim. She hummed the name under her breath, a soft echo against the cold iron walls of her cage. Firefly... it was her new name, one she could hold on to, even if it didn't erase the pain of her past.

Firefly leaned forward, her voice once again drifting down into the pit, carrying their names in the song—Voice from Shadow and Firefly—two voices speaking in the dark, reaching across the void. Her heart clenched, but there was also a strange comfort in it. Maybe they were both rendered small, but together they could share something far greater. Together, they could find meaning in the void.

And so, she sang.

Slowly, her body began to heal, but it was a frustratingly slow process. Her wings, still a twisted mess bent joints, refused to cooperate. She attempted to set them back in place as best as she could, her fingers trembling as she worked, but she wasn't a healer. At least, she didn't believe she was. No matter how hard she tried, the wings didn't align, and the constant reminder of her inability to fly gnawed at her, the thought of never soaring in the sky for the first time was leaving a hollow ache in her chest. Her stomach twisted with the weight of that sorrow, the idea of being grounded forever more suffocating than the cage she was trapped in.

But before the darkness of despair could fully claim her, a loud shout cut through the stillness of the camp. The sound of excitement rippled through the air, and instinctively, she pulled her mind away from the depths of sorrow. She slid to the edge of her cage, her small fingers wrapping weakly around the cold metal bars. Her tattered dress hung loosely around her thin frame, the fabric barely clinging to her malnourished body. Weeks of nothing but bread and water had left her emaciated, her skin pale and thin, with sharp angles and hollowed cheeks.

The only comfort she found was that she didn't need to relieve herself like the scavengers did—she had seen them urinating outside in the open, and the very thought made her lip curl in disgust. She didn't have to do that. That small, silent mercy was all she could cling to.

She pushed herself up as best as she could in the cramped cage, her back hunched over. Through the bars, she peered out, watching the men with keen eyes. The shouting continued, and her heart dropped into her stomach as she saw him—the captain. He was back. He had cleaned himself up, wearing new clothes that fit better than the ragged ones he had left with, and his scraggly black beard had been trimmed to a more carefully maintained stubble. But his eyes—those muddy, hate-filled brown eyes—were the same. And the sinister smile on his face sent a ripple of dread down her spine.

His voice, as he addressed his men about some "big payday," was laced with greed and satisfaction. He was excited, his words laced with triumph, but confusion filled her as she tried to understand what he meant. He had been gone for days, and now he was saying he had brought people to see some "score"? The pieces didn't fit, and the unease in her gut only grew stronger.

As the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, the fading light cast long, looming shadows, and one of those shadows—his shadow—fell over her. It stretched unnaturally long as he turned to face her, and she froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and fear prickled down her spine. The smile on his face only deepened, and the sinister glint in his eyes made her stomach churn. She knew then that whatever was coming, it was not going to be good.

The captain stepped closer, his men trailing behind him like dogs to their master. He chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Well, Cage Bird, I've found you a brand new home," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "At a very high price, might I mention. Now, be a good bird and come here."

Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a split second, a part of her wished she could escape, that she could flee the cage and be free of this nightmare. But then the thought struck her—if she left this cage, if she followed him, she would leave her Shadow behind. And she couldn't, she wouldn't.

"No," she whispered softly, barely audible.

The captain didn't hear her, and he demanded she speak up. "What was that, Cage Bird?" he sneered, cupping his ear theatrically. "Speak up, girl."

"No!" she shouted, her voice filled with defiance and panic. Her heart was hammering in her chest as the fear surged through her veins, and the collar around her neck seemed to tighten in response. She wouldn't leave the pit. She wouldn't leave her Shadow.

The captain's smile twisted into a snarl, and his eyes darkened with fury. "What did you say, bitch?" His voice was venomous, dripping with hatred as the world around them darkened with the setting sun. "I said, come here!"

"No! NO! No! NO! I will not!" she screamed, her voice raw, full of desperation. The power inside her surged, but she held it back, not wanting to give the collar more reason to tighten, even as her throat burned.

The captain's patience snapped. He yanked the key from the Second's belt and jammed it into the lock of her cage, the sound of metal grinding against metal sending a jolt of terror through her. Her heart raced uncontrollably as she watched him unlock the door, a sense of doom washing over her.

"No, nonononono," she whimpered, her body trembling in fear. She raised a hand, weakly reaching out, as if she could stop him from opening the door. But it was too late. He barreled into the cage, grabbing her wrist with a force that made her cry out in pain. With one savage twist, he snapped her wrist like a twig. The agony that followed was blinding. She screamed, her body shaking violently as he seized her by the throat, cutting off her air and yelling foul words into her face.

The pain was unbearable, but as her vision blurred and her heartbeat thudded in her ears, she could have sworn she heard something from the pit—a voice, low and familiar. But it was drowned out by her own pulse, the captain's breath hot against her skin as his grip tightened.

Just as she thought she might black out from the lack of oxygen, something shifted. The world around her seemed to move in an instant. She was thrown violently to the ground, the cage shaking and tipping with the force of the impact. Coughing, gasping for air, her vision slowly returned, and she saw the captain and his men backing away in shock, their faces contorted with terror.

Tears streamed down her face as she whimpered, cradling her broken wrist. A cold, hard touch brushed against her back, sending a shiver through her. She blinked in confusion, her blurry eyes focusing on the long, metallic leg that reached out from the darkness of the pit. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. Slowly, her hearing returned, and the men's frantic shouts grew louder as more mechanical limbs emerged from the depths below. The cage rattled as another leg appeared, this time on top of her cage, followed by more—each one more ominous than the last.

The deep voice from the pit echoed once again, sending a chill down her spine. "What was once great is rendered small."

Her heart skipped a beat as the reality of the situation hit her. She was about to meet her Shadow.