It was not a song. A song would imply something beautiful, Canach thought.
Estranged as he was from his own mother, a song reminded him of her; the way she would move her arms, the soft sound of the leaves fluttering in the morning air,
the newborn turning in her womb to wake into a new day.
It was not a threat. One wouldn't want to follow a threat. A threat would make you run, would make you rebel, would give you a weapon and a place to stand your ground.
Canach found he couldn't truly define Mordremoth's call.
It rammed against his mind at every waking moment, it tugged at his consciousness making his teeth grit and only pure stubbornness kept him walking.
He hadn't fallen prey to the dream and its obligation, why in the world would he walk freely into slavery? No.
He was good as he was, even with his Countess being the annoyance that she was, even being dragged into battling what was almost his father in a way. No. He was fine.
Read the rest via the link in the description!