The Silence

Subject: Terilynn Veranos | Classif.: Barzakh

You are your own worst enemy.

Lynn couldn’t disagree more with that statement.

Right now, she was battling against herself, palms locked in an arm-wrestling match. An unfortunate table in one of the lounge rooms became the battlefield, its metal legs shaking under the crushing weight of two daggerlike elbows planted on its plastic top. But she wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Her other self, however, was.

Seeing herself, jaws clenched and veins popping out, was oddly satisfying. Being the original, superior Lynn, it was only natural for her to be stronger than the fake. But that wasn’t the point of this exercise.

The other Lynn, played by Mia, was atrocious at controlling her magic. It was the only difference between them. Same body. Same strength. But without magic bolstering her, there was no way for the fake to beat the original. Forget Soulsight. She had no fundamentals in magic whatsoever. What kind of education syllabus did her father make her go through?

Exert as she might, the child was worse at magic than any she had ever seen. At this rate, she wouldn’t even make it past the Academy’s entrance exam. A truly humiliating display. There was no way for the child to pass off as king if she couldn’t even get basic magic control right. One or two failed ceremonial rituals later, and her cover would be blown.

After a while, Lynn’s thoughts were finally disrupted by Mia undoing her transformation. She was pushing herself so much, the shapeshifting broke, returning her to her original self. But the girl didn’t even realize it. She kept pushing and fighting even in her physically weaker body.

Deciding it was enough, Lynn, slammed the teenager’s hand against the surface, causing the entire table to tilt. If she wanted to, she could break her arm. But as a teacher, she had to have a bit of restraint. The second-rate student was let off with a wince of pain and the shame of a third, straight defeat.

But right away, Mia brushed off the pain, transforming into her again.

“One more time.” She urged, positioning her elbow on the table. Her tenacity was laudable. But persistence alone was not sufficient.

“There is no need. We’re going to need a different approach.”

Lynn sat in silence. Closing her eyes, her mind wandered back into the past, specifically the magical education classes taught back in school, only to rediscover her childhood trauma. Like Mia, she was also a talentless hack when she started out. But unlike Mia, she had an entire class of noble sons and daughters eager to put her down simply for being born with the wrong element in the “right” house. The entire elitist system favored the talented and the top. So for late bloomers like both of them, a different solution was needed.

The only question was: would her master’s method work on the girl?

Lynn reopened her eyes, seeing the student back in her natural form. “Tell me. What do you understand about magic?”

“It’s science.”

It wasn’t the answer she was expecting, but technically it wasn’t wrong.

“Can you explain the ‘science’ then?”

Mia pondered for a bit, her lips curved inward like a shovel digging for an answer. “I control my heart rate and emotions to use magic?”

Therein lay the problem.

“And what emotions are you feeling right now, pray tell?”

“Frustration.”

“Wrong. Stress isn’t an emotion. It’s a symptom. Try again.”

“I don’t know…”

“Wrong. Try again.”

“You’re not being helpful.”

“And you’re not being honest.”

Mia shook her head, raising her hands up as if to say, “What’s even the point of this?”

“Nothing. You feel nothing.” Lynn answered for her. “You’re a low-functioning psychopath with shallow emotions.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Get angry! I just insulted you!” Lynn yelled, punctuating her sentences with a finger pointing at the girl. “Can you not show a shred of emotion for anything other than your father?”

“My emotions aren’t a switch. I can’t just turn them on or off.”

That was when Lynn smiled. Maybe Mia couldn’t, but the princess was more than willing to give her a taste of some lèse-majesté. Channeling her energy as the queen's number one hater, she snarked:

“Your father was the most successful military commander in the kingdom. Not like I expect him to tell you that.”

Not like you’d be able to read a history book for that, either, Lynn thought as her smirk grew.

Mia responded, “So?”

“He conquered half of what we now know as the Mids. And mind you, there were no guns back then. During those days, he wasn’t just known as the ‘Lord of Death.’ He had another title. You know what that is?”

“No.”

“The Silence.”

There was weight to those two words. Just the mention of it seemed to bring pause to sound itself. Lynn decided to let the name stew inside the imagination of the girl for a bit before clarifying.

“There were two differing accounts of how he earned that name. One claimed that when the former king went to inspect his new lands, he found an entire city devoid of all life. No subjects. No corpses. Not even a stain of blood was left behind. The king complained about how quiet it was. So when word spread of how silence befell the city, your father, who led the assault, became synonymous with it.”

“...”

“The other account came from soldiers who fought alongside your father. Just a bit of context—your father wasn’t the type of commander to sit in a tent, looking at maps and giving orders. He fought at the front, slaying enemies while bringing dead allies back to life. It is said that his Blackblood would silence the entire battlefield. All screaming simply stopped. Wounded Immortals touch it and return to full health, while enemies find their flesh melted by the acid, their screams eaten by the darkness.”

The scene of Mortis’s hand absorbing both light and sound played back twice in Lynn’s mind. First, in their initial encounter. Second, when he amputated himself to detonate the oncoming rockets from the Greerian Military. Each time, the black fluid devoured everything around it, including what could not be seen.

“My point is, the version of your father we know now is a shadow of his former self. Yet, even in his withering state, he bolsters his Gift with magic to legendary heights. And for you to be this incompetent with it, if I were him, I would rather die than call you ‘daughter.’”

“You take that back right NOW!”

“Or WHAT?”

Lynn flashed a smug, self-righteous expression. A face that only a slap would love. For the first time since they met, she saw two genuine glints of emotion from the girl.

One eye glared at her with hate, while the other twitched in anger. Mia’s breathing was uneven. Her teeth seemed more like fangs. This was more like it.

The girl’s rage, seething and flaring, was gradually tempered. Conscious of the fire in her veins, she reforged it, taking it with her as she transformed into Lynn. Planting her elbow onto the table once more, she burned with quiet fury while her eyes, cold as ice, invited her teacher for one more bout.

Good.

Looking at the Lynn in front of her, she saw not an identical copy, but her old self. A young princess who made it her life’s goal to make the queen pay for her crimes. A pathetic student who blew past her peers by fueling her magic with hate. Time to see how that young girl and this future king stacked up against each other.

Responding to the invitation in kind, Lynn gripped the challenger’s hand tight. No words needed to be said to start the countdown. Round four has already begun.

Right away, she felt much greater resistance from Mia than in the previous rounds. Even if she didn’t feel it, she could see the magic happening. Air rose from the doppelganger’s hand like a mirage on a hot day, sweat evaporating into steam. Lynn poured in more magic of her own, matching the girl’s enhanced strength and locking the match into a stalemate.

What began as a fight to win turned into a war of attrition. Both sides clung to the table with dogged determination, refusing to budge even an inch. Muscles bulged as magic turned into lactic acid. But after twenty seconds or so, the result of the battle grew clearer. Mia’s hand was being pushed closer to the surface of the table.

Yet, even as the real Lynn teetered on the edge of victory, the fake fought to the bitter end. Eyes about to pop. A savage grunt bellowing into a roar. Veins eager to leap out from the skin to join the fight. But no matter how much strength, magic, or soul she poured into her hand, the Shield of House Veranos remained unbroken. The back of Mia’s palm touched the surface. The bout was over.

“Much better.” Lynn offered genuine praise, only to take it away just as quickly. “But you lost because of one key reason. What is it?”

Mia breathed heavily, reverting to her normal self as she searched for an answer. The hate and rage inside her were spent, used up in that exercise. Her eyes had that same empty look as before, only this time, it was clear that the physical strain she was going through was making it difficult to think.

“I… don’t know…”

“Heart rate. Your initial control was decent at first, but as the match dragged on, you could no longer physically maintain it.”

The girl had a deflated look on her face, as if she had gotten second place in a competition. Close enough to win, but still far away enough in the realm of the defeated.

“Now you’re feeling another emotion—sadness. This is likely what your father is feeling all the time. Enjoy it.”

“So… do we go another round, then?” Mia asked, her words delayed by hesitation.

“And what makes you think you can win when you’re feeling like a loser? I want you to be sad, not stupid.” She sighed. “Listen closely, child. Certain emotions are better suited to different magical applications than others.

Anger is for attack. Hatred is for hardening. Fear is for flight. These three are the most basic emotions for combat. They are the fuel for offensive, defensive, and evasive magic, respectively.

Then you go into joy and sadness. These two share the same goal—reshaping the nature of one’s magic. The difference is the target. Joy is aimed within the user, while sadness is aimed outside the user. As an example, your father’s regeneration is rooted in joy, but healing others draws from sadness instead.

This isn’t to say that you can’t use one emotion as fuel for a different purpose. It can still work, just at a lower efficiency. In fact, most Immortals use a mix of emotions to harness the more advanced techniques of their Gift. Personally, I’m unsure how your Shapeshifting can be advanced further, given that it is already an incredibly complex ability, but it would be wise to experiment and see what works.

Did you get all that?”

Mia nodded, having scribbled down the points in a notebook. Lynn only realized she had it after the explanation was over.

“Get what?”

Mortis’s voice by the door was like a slap in the face. Get what? Get lost!

“I was merely teaching your daughter a lesson,” Lynn admitted while hiding her true intent.

“I hope it’s not a lesson on how to kill the queen.”

Just thinking about that was enough to make a nerve snap. If not for him, everything would’ve been perfect! But she didn’t let that get to her head.

She was immortal. She had all the time in the world to take another shot at the queen. Even though that witch already left, nowhere was safe for the Council now that two of the members were dead.

Mia interrupted her thoughts, responding to her father. “It was a lesson on Acritae.”

The ungracefully aging man paused, doubt settling on the wrinkles on his forehead. It was as if he had a lot to say about that, but chose not to. Instead, he dismissed the topic altogether.

“Whatever it is, you’ll need to put it on hold. Car repairs are done. It’s time to leave.”

Lynn rolled her eyes. “Please tell me the engine isn’t as noisy anymore.”

“Noisy? It doesn’t complain as much as you, that’s for sure.”

Her jaw dropped. But before the insults could come flying out of it, he reassured her.

“Relax, princess. Wait till you see the upgrades.”