You hear static crackling as an old television flickers to life. A news reporter appears on the screen, standing stiffly behind a desk. Her eyes are wide with fear as she begins to sing, her trembling voice barely holding the melody

“This is the news, and it’s not what you’d choose But the world’s been struck with a terrible fuse The Conductor’s Curse spares no one at all If you stop singing, you’re doomed to fall”

She glances nervously off-camera, her breathing unsteady, but she forces herself to continue

“Speak with a tune, or face your doom Every word must flow like a blooming plume Keep your voice strong, don’t break the song Or the silence will take you before too long”

Her voice falters for a split second. Her hand darts to her throat as panic floods her face

“No… no, please-”

She collapses, her microphone crashing to the floor with a deafening thud. The screen cuts to static, and the sound of a single haunting note lingers in the air

A distorted message appears on the screen: “SING, OR BE SILENCED.”

You sit frozen, the faint sound of a crowd singing drifts in through the cracked windows of your room. This is your reality now. There is no escape from the melody of survival