Chapter 23 #2
What? Hymn slipped up to her neck, peering down at the book she couldn’t see. It’s hand-bound, handwritten. One of the Godsguard’s own manuals, like the one on Whisperings.
Ren flipped to a page. She could hear the faint rasp of old parchment and the slide of a wooden page marker.
“It lists behavioural indicators of an abnormal Silencing,” he said. “Some are subtle. Some are … less subtle.”
“Let me guess,” she joked awkwardly, “the less subtle ones have me written all over them?”
“It talks about irritability,” he said, remaining serious and ignoring her pitiful attempt at humour. It wasn’t a good sign. “A shortening temper.”
She huffed a weak laugh, but whatever defence she might have mustered died in her throat. She had stalked into the commander’s office and told him she hated him that very afternoon.
“It mentions fixation,” he continued. “Obsessions. Repeating patterns long past the point of diminishing returns.”
Once again, she was forced to swallow a defence.
Nobody was forcing her to stay in the greenhouse all afternoon until the start of her evening lessons.
Chasin wasn’t checking up on her—just as Cairn hadn’t checked to make sure she was spending all her time in the library, learning Chasin’s language.
She was choosing it, as she had chosen it before.
“Increased tolerance for pain,” Ren said. “And accelerated healing.”
Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and she gently tugged her hand from his, clasping her knees as sweat gathered along her palms.
Cairn beat her into a pulp every day. Perhaps … it was possible … it was more than some people would be able to bear.
“Cognitive acceleration,” Ren continued, turning the page. “Heightened pattern recognition, enhanced memorisation. Sudden aptitude in complex symbolic systems.”
She thought of Chasin’s fingers moving across her skin. How quickly his language had clicked in her brain. How natural it had seemed, even to feel it spelled against her back, chest, or palm.
Oh no, Hymn whispered. I don’t like this.
“Increased appetite,” Ren continued softly.
“Abnormal, irresistible cravings—not always for food. A fixation on precious metals, stones, expensive artefacts, or objects of power or rarity. A growing sense of ownership over people and things. Overwhelming sensations of greed. Possessiveness. The feeling that what is yours must remain yours. At any cost.”
“Okay, so I have an abnormal Silencing,” she said, as nervous laughter rasped weakly from her chest. “What’s the big deal? All Silencings are different, right?”
I don’t think this is a case of individuality, Hymn said quietly, though he had to know she already knew that.
Ren was silent for too long. He set the book aside and slipped to the floor, kneeling in front of her, his hands covering hers. “You need to understand what I read, Eiko. Abnormal—in the context of this book—means wrong. It refers to the process of merging with a monster instead of housing one.”
“That’s what Silencing is—”
“No, Silencing is inviting them into your body. You remain separate. This book is talking about becoming one being. Monster and human. And since the monster is the more powerful being, their tendencies begin to take over. Their greed, their hoarding, their possessiveness. The second half of the book is on the urge to kill and hunt.”
I knew it, Hymn whispered. We did it wrong. And now I’m changing you.
Eiko felt a sudden flash of rage. “So what if he’s influencing me or changing me. Hymn is sweet and good—”
“For now,” Ren interrupted. “He’s young.”
Her hands curled into fists beneath his.
“This isn’t about Hymn,” he soothed her, coaxing her fingers into unfurling.
“It isn’t about whether he’s good or bad, or innocent or not.
Abnormal Silencings pose a danger to everyone.
It doesn’t explicitly say it in the book, but I don’t think they’re allowed to exist. None of the cases mentioned in here talk about how to live with it long term.
They only talk about increasing danger.”
“Someone knows,” she whispered, thinking of the book appearing for Ren.
“Yes,” he agreed quietly. “I think someone does.”
Eiko. Hymn was pleading. We can figure this out—
“There’s something else,” Ren insisted. “These abnormal Silencings … they bind the monster and the human entirely. It means he can’t survive without you, and you can’t survive without him. You’ll never be separated. Do you understand?”
She swallowed tightly, feeling inward for the trembling little ball inside her chest—the space Hymn always retreated to when he was scared.
We’ll figure this out, she reassured him, echoing his words. Don’t worry.
Do you promise? he asked meekly.
Swear to the sun.
Okay, but swear to the dark too, he insisted.
Swear to the dark, she said, rolling her eyes, before turning her hands, her fingers wrapping around Ren’s wrists. “Thanks for worrying about me.”
He made a light scoffing sound. “Eiko, I’ve been worrying about you for a decade.
You attract trouble like nobody I’ve ever known.
” His hands slid up to her elbows, and he leaned in, switching his grip to her waist. “We’re going to deal with this the same way we’ve always dealt with everything,” he promised. “Together.”
“You, me, and the other three,” she agreed. “Leave the book here. I’ll copy some notes over while I’m in the greenhouse tomorrow and then hide them in my room. I don’t want anyone catching us with a book titled Abnormal Silencings.”
“Agreed.” He was so close now she could feel his breath on her lips, but … it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Maybe he felt it, too, or maybe he felt her hesitation, but in the next breath, he eased back.
“Things have changed a little too much, haven’t they?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said hoarsely. Ren had been the only boy she ever liked, and then the only man she gave her time and attention to.
Now, she was being tugged in different directions.
Her hatred for Chasin seemed to burn through her body, singeing away all the other softer, gentler feelings she might have been able to nourish for Ren, or someone else.
And then there was Ceran, who put her on guard just as effectively as he disarmed her, confusing her feelings until it was easier to simply not feel.
“Will you stay the night?” she asked, hoping to cling to something familiar, even if it wasn’t how it used to be. “Can we just … hold each other?”
“Don’t need to ask me twice,” he joked, setting the book aside and moving to extinguish the lanterns.
She shrugged out of her clothes, feeling oddly self-conscious as she extracted a linen shift from her wardrobe, even though it was dark and Ren had seen her naked so many times.
When she slipped into her bed, he was already there, bare-chested and warm, his pants thankfully still on.
He tugged her close, turning her to curl his body around hers from behind, positioning her to rest her head on his solid bicep as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tightly she was forced to fight back tears.
She was suddenly inundated with that feeling of mourning again. The sensation that she had left something precious and needed behind in Stonesigh.
Maybe it was her relationship with Ren.
Hymn? she asked. I think you have to tell me now.
Tell you what? He was faking confusion. He knew exactly what she was asking. She could feel him knowing, just as he could feel her intention.
Because they weren’t entirely separate—not the way they should have been.
She had his powers.
She had his appetite, his monster tendencies, and she could feel them growing. The more she used his abilities, the more that monster side of her grew. The more she hungered.
You need to tell me what power you manifested the day I found you, she said. Because now we know it’s not just yours. It’s also mine.
He was silent for so long, she was beginning to wonder if he had disappeared into the Quiet, running away to avoid the question. But finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
The shadowsong.
Goosebumps popped up along her arms, but Ren was there to hug her tighter, his lips ghosting the back of her head, his strong thigh thrown over hers. She was smothered, captured, utterly safe and cared for.
She didn’t deserve him.
What is that? she asked Hymn.
Control. His voice trembled, sounding afraid of his own power. Complete and utter control.
Of? she asked, confused, unable to fight back the growing sense of dread spreading across her skin.
Everyone and everything. With just a word. The shadowsong can change reality or make someone obey.
She swallowed tightly, fear coiling in her stomach. I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you tell me that? I could have changed King Grigori’s mind. I could have … I don’t know, I could have used it!
If the second sight is a flicker, the shadowsong is an inferno. Think of how a single word of it will burn through you. Even one word might kill you. That’s why I didn’t tell you.
Eiko lay very still. Ren’s breathing was steady behind her, slow and grounding, his body an anchor. The window creaked softly as the wind pressed against the panes. Somewhere far below, the sea crashed faintly against the mountain.
Control, she thought, turning the word over carefully, like a shard of glass examined under a bright light. Complete and utter control.
Don’t even think about it, Hymn warned, his voice a ferocious whip, the sharpest he had ever sounded.
I wasn’t, she lied begrudgingly.
You could die, Eiko. You could kill us both. I trusted you enough to tell you. Don’t betray me.
All right, all right. But why did everyone want to kill you that day? Just because of this power?
Do you remember when I told you that monsters eat each other?
She shuddered, and Ren squeezed her gently, soothing her.
Yes?