The humming helped. It was a strange, unexpected thing, something Tenth would never think of doing himself, but also something that didn't seem surprising at all when coming from Liraeth. Everything about him seemed so together, composed and steadying, it made sense that he would also be familiar with such a mysterious, far-away thing as music.

Tenth was distantly sure he'd heard music before, somewhere, perhaps when his duties took him into a bustling city. It was hard to remember now, he couldn't pinpoint a familiar melody or even a sound he'd recognize, but he could focus on Liraeth's voice, how soothing it was, how gentle the rustling of leaves and whispering of waves felt when it didn't cut into his head like a battleaxe. He wished it could last longer, but before the scent of food could permeate the smoke-tainted air, the song stopped abruptly, and Tenth had to hold back the urge to clasp his hands over his ears again when Liraeth spoke.

Tenth frowned, struggling to make sense of the explanation. The words "dark magic" meant little to him - he wasn't involved in the study of the arcane at all, he knew nothing of spells and curses - but the words invoked a sense of unease. It gripped his heart and twisted his stomach.

"What?" the question fell flat, not demanding an answer, echoing quiet and hollow. He felt lost. Liraeth's words carried weight, stacking on his shoulders, dragging them down as they slumped and he rubbed his eyes as it it'd clear his head. Something wasn't right with him, he knew that much, but to believe what the mage was saying, he'd have to... Liraeth would have to...

He shook his head, a crease of worry between his eyebrows, a sickly palor in his cheeks. His eyes met Liraeth's - he was searching for signs of deception, jest, or even mere uncertainty, but whatever hope he still held onto was near instantly crushed.

"But I wanted to follow them," he protested, and this time, despite his attempts to lace the words with as much confidence as he ever had in him, it did come out like a question - broken and unsure. "I know I wanted to. I remember that."

Orders have always been so... easy. Natural. The rush of warmth and a sense of belonging that came with successfully following an order wasn't like anything he's ever felt before or since. The heat of the campfire couldn't even compare. He shivered under the mage's coat, grateful for it but seemingly unable to draw any comfort from it, always on edge, always looking over his shoulder in case someone would see his transgression and admonish him for it.

"I could always... I can still..." he trailed off, searching for words. Hands reached forward, closer to the fire as he flexed his numb fingers. "If you order me to do something—if you tell me to do something I can't—swim in that river or—something I don't want to do, like—to hold my hand over the fire, I won't..."

He shook his head again, determination filling his heart. Fists clenched and chest puffed with empty confidence, he looked at Liraeth.

"Order me. I won't do it."