A silence within the ground

The Concordium clerk didn’t even look up when Ren slid the stamped slip across the counter. A jingling of coins and rustling of paper followed. After being counted, thirty-five silver were passed to Ren. No congratulations or questions. It was just the payment in a small pouch and a wave of a hand to push them away. They had no intention of lingering in this place and left the building quickly.

Hibiki snatched the pouch out of Ren's hand and threw it up and down, roughly weighing it. “Well. That’s… a lot more than stupid rat money.” “Don’t wave it around,” Miyako snapped, taking the pouch and throwing it back to Ren to keep safe. “We get food. Then the orchard.” Ren nodded. His stomach was screaming at him. He kept seeing the bandit leader’s eyes as he fled and the driver’s still hands cradling his own chest. Not only that, but a more pressing concern was nagging at him: Darius was missing. Two days with no word might not seem a lot but it was strange that a man like that would just be gone. The barkeep’s voice was full of worry when he said it.

They kept their heads down and bought hard bread, a thin wedge of cheese, and a handful of dried pear slices from a stall further down a small street. After grabbing their provisions, they cut through side streets, then smaller ones, then alleys where the wash lines hung low and the ground smelt like soap. The washhouses were as they’d left them—older women beating clothes against boards, boys tugging buckets of grime-filled water. As they passed this area, the city’s noise lowered, with only small sounds left: a dog bark, a bucket clank, and the distant snap of a loom.

The orchard gate waited, crooked and rust-flaked. No one guarded it. No one cared. “Same plan,” Miyako said. “In, slow, quiet. If you see anyone, we leave. No talking about this practice where someone can hear.” Ren pushed the gate with his shoulder; it whined and swung. They passed the dead trees and it wasn't long until they were obscured by all the thorny shrubbery. It was brighter than last time, a dim beam of sunlight piercing the area and creating a circle of light in the middle.

The noises from the city fell away. Hibiki looked around once more, making a sarcastic comment. “Perfect. Damp and full of death. Our favourite.” “Shut up,” Miyako responded; she had grown increasingly irritated with his remarks. She was already staring at the area, making sure there were no flaws in the possible defence. She pointed. “Someone’s eyes need to be on the corner near the gate at all times.” “Alice, come with me for a minute.” Alice leaned closer, arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes were puffy as usual, as if crying was her natural state. Miyako stayed with her and kept watch as they ate. The bread was dry and the cheese was salty and too hard but no one complained. Hibiki tried to joke once about the pears being stones, but the moment he saw Alice’s face, he shut up.

They finished their meal in silence, the orchard too still around them. Flies buzzed lazily over a puddle in the dirt, catching flecks of light as they circled. Miyako stood first, brushing crumbs from her lap. “Alright. We try again. Nothing big. Nothing loud. Small enough to stop if it goes wrong.” Hibiki groaned, but he still stood. “You know, most people practise normal things in normal places. Not—” He gestured at the skeletal orchard. “—in haunted fruit graveyards.” “Better than a street full of ears,” Miyako snapped. Ren stayed back near a line of bushes that gave a partial view of the gate. His gut twisted once more. Miyako motioned for Alice first. “Start small. If it feels wrong, stop.” Alice sat cross-legged in the patch of light, her hands playing with the remains of a half-eaten pear. Miyako crouched beside her, voice low but clipped. “Focus. Don’t force it. Think about the rats; they all had flowers on them.” Hibiki turned his head and chimed in. “Don’t forget all the vines! It looks like you definitely can do things with plants and stuff.” Miyako clicked her tongue at being interrupted. “Well, yeah, what he said, just see if you can do anything with it. Don’t worry if you can’t. Just yet.” She placed an arm on Alice's shoulder.

Alice drew in a breath, her palms sweating as she fumbled with the pear. Alice drew in a breath, her palms sweating as she fumbled with the pear. It was soft already, bruised from the handling. She pressed her thumb into the skin until juice trickled down the side of it. Her lips trembled as she concentrated on her task.

The fruit pulsed and vibrated. It was both like and unlike a heartbeat — more like something breathing with artificial life. The bruised parts smoothed out under her touch, even parts that had been eaten stitching themselves back together slowly, until the pear looked fresh again. However, it didn’t stop there; vein-like strands ran through it, darker than they should be. Suddenly, a tiny dark sprout burst from the top where the stem had broken off. It curled in her hand, trembling like it was reaching for light. Alice gasped, nearly dropping it, then clutching it tight instead. “I—I didn’t mean—” “Don’t panic,” Miyako cut in, firmly.

Her hand pressed on Alice’s shoulder. “Just stay calm; it seems like emotions make it chaotic.” The sprout writhed, its green darkening, petals unfurling at the tip — a black flower twirling itself open. Hibiki muttered, “That’s… creepy as hell.” He tried to correct himself by offering a grin and small chuckle, but his voice cracked. Alice’s hands shook harder. “It’s wrong. It looks so wrong.” “It’s fine; concentrate,” Miyako advised. “You’re doing it; you’re in control, not the other way round.” She reached out but didn't dare touch the flower. “Keep hold of it. We will use it for practice.” Alice nodded weakly, cradling the pear softly.

Watching all this between glancing at the gates, Ren swallowed, his throat dry. “If she can… make things grow… what does that make me?” Miyako responded swiftly. “Isn’t it obvious? Anyway, it’s your turn,” Miyako said, unable to look away from the flower. Ren crouched, pressing both palms to the dirt. The soil was damp and clumped together, gritty under his nails.

His breathing stopped as he thought back to the wolf, to that awful pressure that had bent the air around him. He wanted to call it, just enough to prove to himself it wasn’t a mistake. At first nothing happened, then the ground beneath his hands dipped—subtle at first, like the earth was loosening. A strange heaviness settled in the air around him. Stones trembled. Dead branches leaned inward as if being tugged. The hollow at his palms grew deeper, soil collapsing into itself in a spiralling motion, dragging leaves and twigs into its centre.

Ren’s eyes widened. The weight spread out, pressing against his arms, his chest, and even his skull. His teeth ached like they were being pulled from his jaw. He tried to move his hands but they felt locked down, pinned by the invisible pull. It wasn’t just the ground sinking—everything within reach of him seemed to bend toward that pit. His vision swam as if the world itself were sliding sideways. “Stop,” Miyako barked, already stepping toward him. “I can’t,” Ren gasped, his voice strained. The pull tugged harder. The soil cracked, roots snapping as if a fist underground were crushing them flat. A stone shifted, dragging in small jerks until it toppled into the forming hollow. His body leaned with it, his chest almost pressed into the dirt, as if he were seconds away from vanishing into it. Alice screamed, clutching the pear tighter like a crutch, the black flower trembling violently in her hand as she began to shake.

Miyako didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Ren by the shoulder and yanked with everything she had. For a moment it was as if she was fighting against a storm, the pull clinging to him, the air thick and weighted. Ren collapsed backward into her. His chest was jumping up and down, sweat coating his skin. The patch of ground where his hands had been was left warped and crushed, the dirt packed tighter than stone, as if gravity itself had pressed it into something unnatural.

Ren choked out between breaths. “It… it was pulling me in too.” Miyako took a deep breath before replying to him. “You need to control it; we can’t have that happening in the wrong place and affecting the rest of us.” He didn’t argue. He couldn’t. The weight of that feeling still seemed to press against his chest, even though it was gone. He swallowed hard, forcing his eyes away from the dirt in front of him.

“Oi.” Hibiki’s voice cut across the orchard, low but tight. He hadn’t moved from his post by the gate, but his whole body had gone rigid. His hand was already on the hilt of his blade, and he didn’t glance back at them as he spoke. “We’ve got company.” Miyako’s head whipped around instantly, her knife already half-drawn. “Where?” “Other side of the fence,” Hibiki muttered. His voice had lost all trace of humour. “Three of ’em with hoods, they’re just watching. Don't know what they saw but couldn't have been there long." Alice’s arms curled tighter around the pear, the flower quivering as if it too feared being seen. Miyako's voice was tense in reply to the silence. “Pack it. Now. We leave.” Ren didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help it—he turned once as they pushed the gate open. The three figures were still there, in black robes and hoods, with what looked like religious ornaments adorning their collars, standing still and staring at the orchard. They soon put distance behind them and the orchard; they weren't following luckily and they all took a deep breath.