Terms and Conditions

The shards turned toward Silas.

They all headed for him, a dozen jagged blades of glass cutting through the air.

But his face was expressionless, his eyes closed. He took his hands out of his pockets, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

He joined his hands together, then slowly spread them apart.

A blackness spread out from between his palms. It was like the void — dark and depthless, jelly-like in the way it moved. It rippled and shifted, swallowing the light around it. He gently swayed his hands, and the black substance spread, covering his entire front like a shield.

The shards hit it. And vanished. They disappeared into the jelly as if they had never existed. Eaten. Devoured. One by one, every last piece of glass was absorbed into that impossible darkness.

He joined his hands again, and the void jelly collapsed in on itself and was gone.

Then came a plate of glass. It was thin — so thin it could cut through anything in its path — and it shot toward him with terrible speed. Silas bent backward, his spine arching like a bow, and the glass plate passed over him. It struck the ground and kept going, slicing through five trees before coming to rest deep in the forest.

The trees groaned. They fell. The sound of them crashing through the undergrowth echoed through the clearing.

Then a black glass appeared in front of them all.

It materialized out of nothing, a vertical sheet of darkness hanging in the air. Just seeing it, the three of them felt their breath catch in their throats. They had seen this before. On the road to Halcombe. They knew what came through black glass.

Tessa dropped out of it.

She landed lightly, her aqua hair swaying with the motion, her cracked face as blank as ever. The black glass dissolved behind her. She stood there, looking at them one by one — Rowan, Rourke, Wren — and finally, her pale eyes settled on Silas.

"What are you doing here?" Tessa shrieked. "You'll die by my hands!"

She summoned another glass plate in front of her. It hung in the air, thin and deadly, catching the light. She punched it with the flat of her fist, and it shattered into dozens of small shards. They hovered around her, ready to fly.

Then a man and a woman stepped in front of her, nobody saw where they came from.

"Stop, Lady Tessa."

The man spoke first. "Lady Ysolde said no one here is to be harmed."

"But that's Silas!" Tessa's voice cracked with rage.

The woman added, her voice calmer but no less firm, "This is Lady Ysolde's order. Please return to your quarters."

Tessa stood there, her hands still raised, the shards trembling in the air around her like a thousand tiny blades. Her face twisted. Frustration. Fury. And something else beneath both — something old and personal. For a long moment, the shards hung there, and it seemed she might ignore the order entirely and attack anyway.

Then, slowly, her hands lowered. The shards dropped to the ground and shattered into dust. She turned her head, her pale eyes lingering on Silas.

A black glass appeared at her feet. She dipped into it, sinking like a stone into dark water.

"I'll go talk to her myself," she said. And then she was gone.

The black glass vanished.

The man and woman turned toward the four of them. Their eyes moved over the group, pausing briefly on Rourke and Rowan, then stopping on Silas.

The man spoke first. "I am Bram."

The woman added, "I am Lisa."

They both appeared to be in their thirties. Their eyes were slightly white, clouded at the edges, and their faces were pale. But their skin wasn't cracked.

Wren stepped up to them. "Where's Pryce? What have you done with him? Where's Ysolde?"

Lisa answered, her voice calm but guarded. "Whoa, calm down, lady. Follow us, and you'll get your answers."

"But..."

They both turned around and began to walk. The others moved behind them, falling into an uneasy line. The forest pressed close on all sides, the trees older here, their roots twisting through the earth.

Rourke walked at pace with Silas, catching up to him. He saw him use his power. He saw his blind eyes. He came to know who he was from this. He leaned slightly closer, his voice low but not hostile. "The Blind Creator of Chaos, aren't you?" There was something like a smile on his face.

Silas glanced toward him. "Am I in trouble now?"

Rourke kept his eyes forward, fixed on Bram and Lisa ahead. "Just disappear when the mission is over."

Wren glanced between the two of them, her brow furrowing. Her eyes settled on Silas. But that's Silas, she thought of tessa's words. Both of them are criminals, so they may have bad blood. But the calmness in Silas — it felt wrong to her somehow. The way he walked with his hands in his pockets, his eyes closed, as if none of this touched him. For now, she just took it in. She didn't have the energy to untangle it.

They were now deep in the forest. A small temple-like opening appeared ahead, half-swallowed by vines and moss. It was small — barely more than a stone doorway set into the earth — but beyond it, there was an underground opening, rough-hewn steps leading down into darkness.

Bram turned to them. "This is the Hollow Choir's stronghold."

He pointed at Wren, then at Silas. "Only you two can come inside. The Crown officials stay out here."

Rowan stepped up immediately. "No. She's not going in there alone. I'm going too. If not, then no one's going in at all."

Lisa smiled. It was a tired smile, but there was steel beneath it. "The old man is in our hands, and you're making demands?" She pointed at Rowan, then at Rourke. "Then only one of you can come."

Rowan looked at Rourke. Rourke gave a single nod. Rowan stepped up.

Lisa turned back toward the entrance. "Well then, follow us. And official, don't try to enter after us." Her eyes lingered on Rourke. "We're Wholevoices too, you know."

Bram faced the entrance. He raised one hand, and when he spoke, his voice came doubled, heavy with petition.

"Let this earth rise and seal the way, and let no one follow who has not been invited."

The ground rumbled. Stone ground against stone. A wall of rock rose from the earth, sealing the entrance behind them. The temple opening was gone. In its place, solid stone. Bram lowered his hand and turned back toward the stairs.

"Now let us continue."

They descended down for some time. Rowan asked, his voice low, "Was that you? The two mountains, the trap — was that your doing?"

Bram answered without turning. "Yeah. We have to protect this place, you know. No one can just walk in."

Wren asked, "Who are you two, really?"

Lisa answered, "Us? We're just members of the Hollow Choir."

"That's not what Wren is asking. You're both Wholevoices. Why aren't you registered with the Crown?"

"Oh, that, We were." Lisa exchanged a glance with Bram before continuing. "Bram was a Wholevoice for the Verdian Empire. And I was one for the Kingdom of Hamburg."

Wren was confused. "Kingdom of Hamburg?"

"Oh, that's on the southern continent. You probably wouldn't know of it," Lisa said.

Rowan added quietly, "I know of it. My mother was from there." He paused. "But how did you two end up here?"

Lisa's voice hardened. "We were abused by our Crowns. They used us as tools. Never understood us. Never understood the toll it takes on the body and the memories." She looked at Bram, then back at them. "But it was Ysolde who saved us. She gave us hope. She treated us as human."

Wren stopped for a second, then continued walking. Ysolde saved them? But—

The thought trailed off. She couldn't finish it. The Ysolde she had imagined — the monster from the wanted posters, the woman who commanded Tessa Grey, the one who had ordered Pryce taken — was not someone who saved people. And yet here were two Wholevoices, standing in front of her, speaking her name with something close to reverence.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. A long hallway stretched forward, carved into the rock, with rooms at regular intervals. The air was cool and damp, and the only light came from flickering torches set into the walls.

"Lady Ysolde will be here soon," Bram said, leading them forward.

"Where's Pryce?" Wren demanded.

"He'll meet you. Just follow along and wait for Lady Ysolde."

"Then where is Ysolde?" Wren was getting restless now. Her patience had worn thin the moment they stepped underground.

Neither of them answered. They just looked at Wren and the others — or rather, at something behind them.

A voice came from behind. "You've been asking about me."

It was smooth, almost soothing.

All three of them turned around.

A woman stood there. She had greyish-white hair, pale and silver, falling loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were blue, clear as winter sky. Her hands were slightly cracked — fine lines running across the skin, the sign of the Toll she had paid. Her face was calm. Pale. Young, despite everything.

She looked at them one by one. First at Rowan. Then at Silas. She lingered on him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then her eyes came to rest on Wren.

She spoke again, her voice soft and unhurried.

"If you don't mind, could we speak in that room over there?"