The morning sun broke through the canopy in scattered rays, dappling the path ahead. The Iron Choir moved in silence now, all traces of Brann's laughter from the night before gone. Darius had taken point, his steps precise, his horn slung across his back like a banner of war. Selene drifted behind him, hood drawn low, while Brann hummed tunelessly as if daring the woods to attack.
Kael trailed close to Lyra, fingers tight around his flute. His chest still echoed with Selene's words. Find the silence.
They hadn't gone far when Darius raised a hand. The group froze.
From the shadows of the underbrush came a low growl, followed by the snapping of branches. Then, eyes, yellow and unblinking, lit the thicket.
"Forest maulers," Darius muttered. "Pack of four, maybe five."
Kael's grip on his flute tightened. He had never fought anything outside of sparring.
The first beast lunged from the trees, all bristling fur and jagged fangs. Darius met it head-on, horn raised. He blew a single note, deep and resonant. The ground trembled, a wall of sound bursting forward and slamming into the beast, hurling it backward.
Selene was already moving. Her hands lifted, sound weaving in thin, piercing threads that cut across the clearing. Another mauler stumbled, ears bleeding from her resonance.
Brann laughed and pounded his drum, amplifying their rhythm. Each strike of his sticks seemed to fuel the others, strengthening their harmonics.
Lyra's harp shimmered into her hands. She strummed a chord that rang like a cry of hope, resonance flowing into Brann and Darius, sharpening their strikes.
Kael froze. Everyone else was moving with precision, their resonance flowing like instruments in an orchestra. And he, he had no place.
"Kael!" Lyra shouted. "Now!"
He raised the flute to his lips, desperate. The note came shrill, uncontrolled. The air warped, snapping a tree branch clean in two, but the resonance splintered wildly. Instead of striking the mauler, it nearly clipped Brann, who ducked with a whoop.
"Careful, boy!" Brann laughed even as he slammed his drum to deflect another beast. "You're trying to kill me, not them!"
Darius snarled. "He is a danger. Useless."
Kael's chest tightened. The flute slipped in his grip as another mauler barreled toward him. Its jaws opened wide, fangs glinting.
He stumbled back, raising the flute without thinking. The note that left him was jagged, raw, barely a resonance at all. The beast pushed through it unfazed.
Then, at the last moment, a sharp vibration cut through the clearing. Selene's sound struck the beast's ear, making it falter, and Darius finished it with a blow from his horn.
Kael collapsed to the dirt, heart hammering. His breath came shallow, his body trembling.
The fight ended minutes later, the maulers retreating into the woods, three of their number broken in the clearing.
Silence hung heavy afterward, broken only by the crackle of fire as Brann poked at kindling.
Darius rounded on Kael. "You almost cost us lives."
"I" Kael's voice broke. He gripped his flute until his knuckles went white. "I tried"
"Trying is not enough," Darius snapped. His voice carried the weight of command, of cold judgment. "On the battlefield, hesitation kills. Your curse is a burden to us all."
Kael felt the words slice deeper than claws.
Lyra stepped forward, eyes blazing. "He's not a curse. He just needs time."
"Time," Darius said flatly, "is something the dead do not have."
Kael lowered his head. Every breath burned.
Brann broke the tension with a playful clap. "Oh, come now, Darius. Don't scare the boy to death before the beasts get another chance. He's green, yes, but I see sparks. You saw how he warped that branch? Uncontrolled, yes, but raw strength. That can be shaped."
Selene finally spoke, her voice soft but cutting. "He drowns in noise. He needs silence."
Her words echoed in Kael's chest. He remembered again: For resonance to echo, it needs silence.
That night, while the Choir slept, Kael sat alone at the edge of the camp. He lifted his flute. This time, he didn't play. He just listened, to the rustle of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, the soft crackle of embers.
And beneath it all, he found something new. A stillness.
When he blew into the flute again, the sound was faint, barely a whisper. But it was
controlled.
For the first time, Kael felt the silence answer him.