The silence had once again begun.This time, Dawn didn't have to warn them.
The silence returned—swift and suffocating. Instinctively, they froze. Yells and roars came even louder this time. The pressure in the air was heavier, suffocating, like something was watching them breathe.
It seemed silence ruled this world and resided everywhere—like a ruthless ruler. Even scent had abandoned them—earth, flowers, air. All gone. Dawn couldn't smell anything at all.
A harrowing fifteen seconds passed. A warning came again. They could no longer even speak in level voices.
Silence lifted once more.
"We have to whisper now?" Numa said, barely above a breath. "What happens if we don't?"
Dawn came closer and whispered, "We don't want to find out what those screams were…"
"Heartless!" Numa said enthusiastically—yet still whispering.
"Stop the pointless talk. It seems to happen about once an hour. I was counting the entire time," Vyra said.
'Counting the entire time from when it happened?' Dawn thought to himself.
Nareth stood up quickly, almost about to yell before covering his mouth. He took a deep breath. "Once an hour… that's… that's just ridiculous! Impossible…"
Vyra leaned into him, her face full of grit. "Calm down. We don't know how often this happens. It could be four hours every week for all we know."
"I propose we explore this place more. Knowledge is key," Dawn said.
"No!" Nareth paused, his face confused. "I—I didn't mean to say that."
'He can't just apologize…' Dawn thought.
"Fine. My sister and I will explore to the right, where we came from," Nareth said.
Dawn stood up. "We'll take the left then."
So, they exited through the other wooden door, directly across from the one they had entered the great hall through. The corridor ran parallel to the one they had used before.
Dawn, Vyra, and Azthrakel walked down the corridor until they saw scarlet doors with gold etchings upon them.
Azthrakel looked the door up and down. "This door is marvelous for a small castle like this…"
He pushed the door open.
Dawn stepped forward and saw the scene: scarlet again, gold layered all over the walls, white contrasting every shadow, sunlight beaming in everywhere… and a body.
'What happened to him? Old age — no, perhaps he wanted to die?'
Dawn thought he might be hallucinating, but when he turned to his group, it was clear they were seeing the same thing.
The skeleton was golden. It shimmered, even in the dark. It wore a suit of armor, with a sword laying across its body. Only its visor area, hands, and joints showed.
'I wonder what he looked like when he was alive…'
Everyone saw the eerie sight, but nobody spoke. Nobody wanted to. Nobody needed to.
Dawn led the group toward the skeleton.
"One person should take the armor, one the helmet, and one the sword. Fair?" Dawn whispered.
The others simply nodded, seemingly unbothered.
'I want that sword,' Dawn thought.
As they approached the skeleton, Dawn felt something. 'What is that? The helmet feels familiar…'
He swayed more toward the helmet now.
'I should trust my instincts. They've never failed me.'
Dawn picked up the helmet and put it on. There was something inside the helmet—as if attached to it. This was the familiar feeling he had sensed before! It was just like the fruits he had seen earlier.
As soon as the helmet touched his mask, he passed out.
A man sat on a throne, looking down upon the subjects before him: knights—dignified, mages—wise, and even spirits. He was preparing for war.
"This order has been hidden for years under society with the Castle of Concealment, preparing for the day of prophecy! Soon the Oath will be shattered, this world will fall into despair, and we bear the burden and glory of saving it. We may not falter, for we are the last stand for the living! God gave us our second chance and we will use it to save those for generations to come!"
The order around him cheered. They were ready to make their stand.
***
The scene faded and another appeared. The King stood tall before a cliff, dozens of elite troops at his side. His cape waved in the air. His helmet was graceful yet crafted for battle. He was ready for war.
He looked off into the distance—into the sky—expecting something. There were two suns; the sunlight here was intense. Yet for a moment, it felt passable. Something was off…
The sky ruptured.
Ten vast holes appeared in the sky.
Monstrous white and black fingers emerged. The fingers gripped the sky as if it were a simple object. They began ripping a rift in reality, tearing the sky apart.
Eyes—pure blood red—appeared first.
Then a mask—white, full-faced. Its smile was dark and wide. It had horns—wide and tall; devilish.
It opened its maw, the mask etched into its face.
"Silence!"
Silence became truth.
A truth no one wanted, yet all carried. It crept into minds and burrowed into hearts. They tried to ignore it—
But it stayed.
And when they could no longer deny it,
It destroyed them.
It was ever-pressing.
A truth that rewrote what was wrong. One mere word, yet even the lionhearted trembled.
No—It was no word.
It was law, decree, curse, and fate.
It didn't echo—it reigned.
It wrapped the world in its grip,
And when the sky defied it—
The sky was unmade.
The violet heavens tore apart.
And the sky… became no more.
The King's troops began to move toward the enemy they had been fated to face— but as soon as they took a single step, they disappeared— leaving only their war relics and armor behind.
'No! Stop!' The King yelled inside his body. It was useless. His eyes went dull and his body weak, but he couldn't move. Moving meant death.
'Impossible. We wasted all of our lives just for this… trained from birth because of the prophecy! And… and they just… disappeared! We had no chance from the beginning.'
The King was forced to watch every single one of his comrades die before him. No bodies to bury, no comrades to grieve with, nothing.
***
A new scene appeared again. This time, the King had white hair. He sat alone on his throne, bearing a dark expression. He was writing a letter. His voice was grainier.
'I tried everything. There's no way to get rid of silence. That monster! He took everything away from me. I've tried for years. I created civilization. I even found relics to combat the silence. But it was all to no avail. I still feel weak and helpless even beyond stage 6 of the silence. Soon, I will be no more.
I warn anyone reading this, don't try to fight. Hide at every chance you get. Silence has nine stages, each more harrowing than the last. Echoes are left behind after killing foes. At stage nine, complete silence lasts an entire hour. Without this castle or some relic, it is impossible to survive stage nine unless you're at stage two or have an ability related to stealth.
However, the castle only guards those on this very throne until stage nine, and those in the throne room until stage eight. My helmet should also keep you alive.
I've seen and heard so many die. They get sent here after death in their own broken world, and they lose their measly lives suddenly.
My last pieces of advice are these: I suggest getting echoes at stage one of the silence if your sole purpose is survival. Echoes of any stage will nourish you for at least a day.
If you plan to travel, do so immediately after the ninth silence, as there are only sixteen hours in a day here. If you want to live, go to the City—the castle points directly to it.
If you, for some reason, take that God-forsaken trial… make sure to keep everyone you came in with alive.
Good luck to you, whoever sees this. I pray your life doesn't become as miserable as mine.
Always remember where the castle points…'