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|| last time ||
The Riders catch them before they can reach Salile, and with no way left to run, Thane finally seizes the Wild Magic with terrifying control, cutting down the men who try to take him and forcing even Bostick to retreat. As the others pull back with him through the black archway, they cross into the cursed silence of Salile, where even a single word could mean death.
Chapter 15 - Not a Word
The city swallowed them whole the moment they passed through the archway. One step in, and the light didn’t vanish, not exactly—it dulled. Muted. As though the mist itself drank it in, leaving only a twilight hush. Shapes and buildings loomed, visible but shrouded in gloom, like the city wore a veil of half-shadow and silence.
Fog slithered around their feet, curling up their legs like something with weight and intention. The sounds of the world outside—the rustling of the wind, birdsong—were gone, devoured by the hush.
It wasn’t just silence. It was a stillness that felt unnatural. Like the city wasn’t abandoned, but paused—held in place by something too boundless to name.
No wind, no echo, no life. The only sounds came from them—their breaths, slow and shallow. Footfalls tapping like drumbeats against the cobbled streets, far too loud in this abandoned place.
They gathered just inside the city walls as Cael raised a finger to his lips, motioning for silence. A reminder.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
Kaelir motioned and they pressed on. Deeper into the city.
Stone buildings lined either side of the narrow avenue, worn by time but still sturdy. Some had intricate carvings etched across their facades—tales of forgotten figures and mythic symbols—but the fog blurred the details. Others were more functional, squat and windowless, built to endure.
All were empty. No banners. No fires. No decay.
Just… abandonment.
Up ahead, the mist thickened, curling between alleyways and doorframes. It shifted like it had somewhere to be—slow, purposeful.
Thane froze.
Movement. Human-shaped. Just for a heartbeat. A silhouette in the fog, tall and thin, drifting across the road ahead like someone just passing through.
Kaelir halted beside him, eyes narrowing toward the same direction, his hand hovering near his blade. Erynn widened her stance beside Cael, clutching her dagger so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. And Lirien slid in beside Thane, her shoulder brushing against his, her eyes forward.
For a moment, they all saw it—or thought they did.
But then the fog folded inward again, swallowing whatever had been there. Now gone.
Thane blinked, then shook his head, his heart racing. It was probably nothing. But then he looked at the others. Their expressions were clear—it was more than nothing.
Lirien turned to Thane. She didn’t speak—couldn’t—but her hand touched his as their eyes briefly met in a quiet reassurance. It lingered longer than necessary—grounding him, steadying him—before withdrawing with a shared nod.
Thane hated how much that settled him. He didn’t want comfort. Didn’t want connection. Not here. Not now. But still—she had steadied him, whether he liked it or not.
After a moment, they pushed on. Thane followed, more slowly and vigilant now, his eyes roaming the alleyways and dark windows like they were full of watching things. This place… it reminded him of something. A feeling from Earth he hadn’t thought about in months. The hallway outside his hospital room at night. That emptiness, the lost feeling, the knowledge that nothing good waited for him.
His jaw clenched.
Why was he even here, doing this? Helping these people. Risking himself.
He didn’t owe them anything.
Hell, this wasn’t even real. It was just a game.
He could’ve logged off.
And yet, he didn’t. He’d come back.
He’d killed for them. Not like in Asmenson—this time he’d chosen it. The second Rider hadn’t even seen the strike coming. And it was brutal.
He told himself it was to protect Lirien.
She hadn’t flinched at the savagery of it. Hadn’t looked at him with fear. Just that same quiet trust that now walked beside him.
Was that what it meant to believe in something?
He thought of Lirien’s fingers brushing his. The way Erynn had looked at him in the late hours at the Hog’s Breath Inn. The way Cael, despite everything, pressed the Elders to test him.
And under it all… something else was changing. Something inside him. He didn’t want to admit it. But part of him wasn’t sure anymore—if it was all just a simulation, or something more. Something that mattered.
His footsteps slowed.
Ahead, the fog shifted again, revealing more of the road, more buildings rising like teeth out of the gloom. His watch pulsed on his wrist, tucked safely away up his sleeve. Ticking in time with his heartbeat. Ticking in time with something more, something deeper.
He let out a shaky breath, watching his mist spiral in the cold air. This was supposed to be a distraction. Something to fill the time before he died. But he’d killed someone back there. Not a monster. Not a glitch. A man. And Lirien had looked at him like he’d done the right thing.
The silence wasn’t just quiet—it was deafening.
It demanded reflection.
Maybe that was the scariest thing about Salile. It made him listen to his own thoughts—good and bad. There was nowhere to hide.
The street narrowed. The buildings leaned inward, crowding tighter as the group pressed deeper into Salile. The fog thickened, swirling low across the stone. It pooled in gutters and spilled from darkened doorways, twisting with the slow, deliberate motion of something alive.
Kaelir raised a hand, halting them at a three-way fork.
Each path ahead vanished into haze. No signs. No markings. Just silence, stone, and the curl of mist around their boots.
Erynn stepped forward slowly, peering down one path, then the next. Then she pointed upward.
Above the leftmost path, the stonework bore faint carvings—swirls half-erased by time. The others were blank. But the air down that leftward way felt… looser. The fog drifted there instead of clinging.
Thane took a step forward—then stopped.
Something stirred. Not sound. Not thought. A rhythm behind his ribs, like a plucked string.
Then it came—three notes. Not in his ears, but inside him, clear and unmistakable.
He knew the tune before he knew why.
The song from the Hog’s Breath Inn. The one the bard had played. The one he hadn’t been able to shake for reasons he hadn’t understood until now. It was ancient. And it called to him.
The notes returned, faint but insistent, like breadcrumbs laid in air.
Thane stepped slowly between the paths, testing the space around him. The melody sharpened near the left. Faded near the others.
He turned back to the group and tapped his ear. Cael furrowed his brow. Erynn tilted her head.
They didn’t hear it.
Thane pointed down the left path and moved, his steps slow and deliberate.
The others exchanged wary glances—then followed.
The song returned at every split, rising faintly in one direction, falling silent in others. Thane followed it by instinct. Not logic. Not faith. Just a rhythm that lived in his chest now.
They moved quietly, the fog thickening again around their feet. Kaelir’s eyes darted through the gloom. Erynn glanced at Thane, confused but trusting. And Lirien stayed close—always close—her shoulder brushing his sleeve more often than not.
Then came another fork. Three paths again.
But this time… no sound.
Thane waited. Focused. Nothing.
The left path looked clearer, somehow more inviting. The mist thinner that way, more open. Like something had prepared it.
Kaelir stepped forward and pointed firmly down the path to the right.
Thane shook his head. Raised a hand. Telling them to wait.
But Kaelir had made up his mind—and moved. The others followed.
The cold hit instantly—a sharp breath of winter cutting through the gloom.
Thane felt it crawl into his chest. His breath caught, and his skin burned where the mist touched it.
The fog surged, twisting with sudden purpose.
Distorted figures stirred in the mist.
Shadows. Human-shaped, but wrong. Twisted. Jerked forward in stuttering mimicry of their movements.
Erynn stumbled, her face pale. Cael caught her arm before she fell. Kaelir cursed under his breath, drawing steel that meant nothing here.
The shadows began to move toward them, their presence suffocating.
Thane turned to run, motioning sharply for the others to follow.
Erynn stumbled again, her breath ragged—bumping into Lirien and sending her tumbling. Thane saw Lirien’s lips part. She was about to speak—he saw it in her eyes. One sound, and they were dead.
Without thinking, he leapt forward, pressing his hand to her face. No sound came. Not even a whisper. Their eyes locked. Hers full of gratitude, his full of fear.
Kaelir and Cael scooped them up, pressing them forward.
From behind, one of the shadows reached toward Cael. Its arm blurred and stretched in the mist—passing through Cael’s shoulder. Cael jerked back with a silent hiss, grabbing at his shoulder like something had struck him. No blood. No wound. But Cael’s eyes said enough—waving them back the way they’d come.
The fog drew back behind them, slow and reluctant. As if it had almost had them—and wasn’t ready to let go.
Back at the previous fork, the melody returned this time. Soft. Familiar. Clear.
Thane bent forward, catching his breath. The others caught up behind him, silent and pale. Erynn pressed a hand to her chest.
No one looked back.
They looked at him. Waiting.
He pointed—and turned toward the left path. No one questioned him this time.
The corridor twisted. The buildings changed—older, heavier, their stones etched with patterns nearly lost to time. Every step forward matched a note in the melody—building, climbing, resolving.
Then the fog parted.
They emerged into a small square, surrounded by resolute towers. At its center stood a domed building of grey stone, its walls covered with ancient murals. Above the doorway, carved deep into the stone—the broken circle. Again.
Thane saw it pulse. Just once.
A faint blue glow—just like his VR headset—then gone.
He stepped forward, pausing at the doorway. The melody faded as his hand met the stone, and the door creaked beneath his touch. The fog behind them didn’t follow. It just hung there, still and waiting.
His heart beat fast. Not from fear. From something else.
Recognition.
This place knew him—somehow.
He thought again of Lirien’s touch. The figures in the fog. The Rider he’d killed without hesitation—no glitch to blame this time. No second thought.
He wasn’t just here to complete a quest. He wasn’t even sure it was a quest anymore.
This world had weight. Consequences. People who looked at him like he mattered.
And that weight was starting to change him.
He wasn’t sure about their Codex and its prophecies, or if what he was feeling was real.
Ahead, the door was cracked—and behind, they all stood watching him like he was the answer.
Whatever this Test was and what it would ask of him—he had no idea.
But apparently, dying worlds had a thing for dying kids.
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