đđđđđđđ :--- đđ§ż
The Trade
"How much?" Elias asked, staring at the empty vial.
â"We do not accept money," the woman said sternly. "To take a sound, you must give a sound. To take this silence, you must give me your Chaos."
âShe produced a heavy, iron jar. "Scream into this. Pour all your frustration, your writer's block, and your fear into this jar. That is the price."
âElias hesitated. It felt dangerous to give away a part of himself. But the thought of living without music was worse. He took the iron jar, pressed it to his lips, and let out a scream that had been building up for years. He poured his anxiety into the vessel until he felt hollow and light.