Chapter 4
Rhymes of Abduction
The first poem speaks of a 'cold, metallic cage' and a 'mind that fears the muse.' Kira realizes the scientist's identity is tied to his hatred of art.
The attic dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight, each a tiny, ephemeral world. Kira traced the faded ink of the letter, her fingers brushing against the delicate paper that had lain hidden for years. The words, once a comforting lullaby from her mother, now hummed with a disquieting urgency. "A cold, metallic cage," her mother had written, "where the mind, afraid of the muse, plots its sterile age."
Kira reread the line, a shiver tracing its way down her spine. Her mother, a woman who found poetry in the rustle of leaves and the ebb and flow of the tides, would never use such stark imagery unless it held a grave meaning. And "sterile age"? It felt like a pronouncement, a chilling prophecy.
"A cold, metallic cage," Leo echoed, peering over her shoulder. His brow was furrowed, his fingers, usually flying across a keyboard, were still. "Sounds like a lab. Or a prison."
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