The map on the White Raven's navigation table glowed with the stolen data from the ocean floor. It showed a world scarred by cataclysms, dotted with the resting places of the Seven Titans.
Three green lights (North, South, West). One yellow light (Ocean).
And now, the target was the red light in the East: The Silica Gorge.
"This region is marked 'Black Zone'," Isolde said, tapping the hologram. "No Imperial patrols. No trade routes. Just a lot of warnings about 'Acoustic Trauma'."
"It's the Canyon of Whispers," Julian said. He was cleaning the salt off his Abyssal Suit, now stripped of its underwater propulsion jets. "Titan 04: The Gale-Warden. It controls the atmospheric currents. It's the reason the smog doesn't choke the entire planet. It acts as a massive air filter."
"And if it's malfunctioning?" Lyra asked.
"Then it's not filtering," Skid said, looking at the atmospheric readings. "It's screaming."
Julian looked out the viewport. The landscape below had changed. The Rust-Sea gave way to a labyrinth of jagged sandstone mesas and deep, twisting ravines carved by eons of wind.
Even inside the ship, they could hear it.
Whooooooo...
A low, constant moan that vibrated the hull plates.
"The geology," Julian noted. "The rocks are hollow. The wind blows through them like a billion flutes. The entire canyon is an instrument."
"And we're flying right down the mouthpiece," Isolde grumbled, gripping the yoke. "Hold on. Turbulence is getting nasty."
The Descent
The White Raven dropped below the rim of the canyon.
Instantly, the sound changed. It went from a moan to a Shriek.
SCREEEEEE.
The wind hit the ship with the force of a solid wall. The vessel shuddered violently, alarms blaring.
"Wind shear at 200 knots!" Isolde yelled over the roar. "The engines can't fight this! It's a wind tunnel!"
"It's a defense mechanism!" Julian shouted, clutching his head. The Black-Iron ring on his finger was burning cold. The noise outside wasn't just random; it was Dissonant. It was designed to disorient.
"I can't stabilize!" Isolde wrestled the controls. "We're going to scrape! I have to set her down!"
She aimed for a wide, flat ledge halfway down the canyon wall.
"Brace for impact!"
The White Raven slammed onto the sandstone ledge, skidding through a cloud of red dust. The landing gear groaned, but held. The ship came to a halt, the engines whining down.
For a moment, there was silence inside the cabin.
Then, the sound of the wind outside hammered against the hull like hail.
"Everyone alive?" Julian asked, unbuckling.
"Define alive," Skid groaned from the floor. "My ears are popping like bubblewrap."
"We're grounded," Isolde checked the diagnostics. "The intake fans are clogged with sand, and the wind is too strong to take off again without repairs. We're walking."
The Walk of Echoes
They suited up. This time, the danger wasn't heat or cold—it was Sound.
They wore heavy, noise-canceling headsets over their hoods. Julian kept his Resonance Gauntlet powered down to avoid accidental feedback loops.
The airlock hissed open.
Even with the headsets, the noise was physical. The wind pushed against them, tearing at their cloaks. The air was filled with flying grit that stung exposed skin.
"The Titan is deeper in!" Julian shouted over the comms, pointing down the winding ravine. "At the center of the vortex!"
They trudged forward, leaning into the gale.
The landscape was surreal. The sandstone walls were eroded into bizarre, fluid shapes—arches, spires, and honeycombed pillars. As the wind passed through the holes in the rock, it created specific notes.
Low hum... High whistle... Rattling bass.
"Don't listen to it!" Julian warned. "It's psycho-acoustic. It creates hallucinations!"
"I see... faces," Lyra muttered, staring at a rock formation. "In the stone."
"Focus on my voice!" Julian commanded. "One foot in front of the other!"
They walked for an hour. The canyon narrowed. The shadows grew longer.
Then, they saw the Statues.
Lining the path were dozens of figures. They looked like people, frozen in mid-step, hands raised to protect their faces. But they weren't stone carvings.
They were Calcified.
"What are they?" Isolde whispered, stopping to look at a figure that was half-merged with the canyon wall.
"Pilgrims," Skid scanned them. "Or refugees. The wind... it carries heavy mineral dust. Silica. If you stay here too long, the dust settles in your pores. In your lungs. It turns you to stone from the inside out."
"The Gorgon's Wind," Julian realized. "They didn't die instantly. They solidified over years."
Click-Click.
A sound cut through the wind. Sharp. Artificial.
"Did you hear that?" Lyra spun around, rifle raised.
"Hear what?" Isolde asked.
"Like... rocks clicking together."
Julian turned off his noise-canceling function for a second.
Click... Click-Click.
It was coming from the shadows of the honeycombed cliff face.
"Something's watching us," Julian said. "Something that isn't stone."
The Hollows
From the holes in the cliff, creatures emerged.
They were humanoid, but skeletal. Their skin was pale, leathery, and stretched tight over their bones. They had no eyes—just smooth skin where sockets should be. Their ears, however, were massive, bat-like structures.
And their mouths were filled with jagged, crystalline teeth.
The Hollows.
"They're blind," Skid whispered. "Cave-dwellers. They evolved to hunt by sound."
One of the Hollows cocked its head. It opened its mouth and emitted a sharp click.
The sound wave hit Julian, bounced back, and returned to the creature's ear. It hissed, pointing a clawed hand directly at him.
"It found us!" Julian yelled. "Echolocation!"
The pack of Hollows—twenty of them—scrambled down the cliff face with spider-like speed. They moved silently, their leathery feet making no noise on the sand.
"Open fire!" Lyra shouted.
BANG-BANG.
The gunshots were deafening in the canyon. The echo magnified the sound a thousand times.
BANG-BANG-BANG-ANG-ANG...
The Hollows screamed in pain, clutching their sensitive ears. But the noise also disoriented the team.
"Too loud!" Julian fell to his knees, his headset failing to dampen the massive echo.
The Hollows recovered faster. They lunged.
A Hollow tackled Isolde, knocking her rifle away. Its crystalline teeth snapped at her throat.
"Get off!" Isolde jammed a flare into its face.
HISSS.
The heat didn't bother it, but the sound of the flare burning made it recoil.
Julian struggled to stand. He raised his gauntlet.
I can't use a Sonic Lance, he realized. In this echo chamber, a blast that big would liquify our own brains.
I need a silence bubble.
He twisted the dial to Invert.
He thrust his palm forward.
HUSH.
He projected a field of negative sound around the team.
Inside the bubble, all noise vanished. The wind stopped howling. The gunshots went silent.
The Hollows froze. Without sound, they were blind. They stumbled, swiping at the air, confused.
"Run!" Julian mouthed the word. He grabbed Lyra and Isolde, pulling them through the silent bubble, weaving past the confused monsters.
The Wind-Walker
They sprinted down the canyon, leaving the blind pack behind. Julian held the silence field for as long as he could, but his arm was shaking. The strain of canceling out the massive wind energy was immense.
The bubble collapsed. The roar of the canyon returned.
Julian fell against a rock wall, gasping.
"We can't... keep this up..." he wheezed. "The echo... it's a weapon."
Suddenly, a shadow fell over them.
Standing on a high pinnacle of rock was a figure.
He was wrapped in layered rags of grey and brown, blending perfectly with the stone. He wore a mask made of a Hollow's skull, and on his back was a strange device: a massive Kite-Wing made of canvas and bone frame.
He held a long staff with holes drilled into it.
He swung the staff. The wind caught the holes, creating a sharp, melodic whistle.
Tweet-whoo-tweet.
The Hollows in the distance heard the whistle. They turned around and fled back into their caves, terrified.
The figure leaped from the pinnacle.
The kite-wing on his back caught the updraft. He glided down, circling them like a hawk, before landing softly in the sand ten feet away.
He looked at Julian. He tilted his skull-masked head.
"You speak the Silent Tongue," the stranger said. His voice was raspy, like sand on stone.
"I speak Resonance," Julian corrected, standing up. "Who are you?"
The stranger lowered his staff.
"I am Zephyr," he said. "Last of the Wind-Walkers. And you are walking into the throat of a god that wants to scream you to death."
He looked at the path ahead.
"The Titan is waking up," Zephyr said. "The Gale-Warden is having a nightmare. If you want to survive... you need to learn how to ride the scream."
"Can you take us to it?" Lyra asked.
Zephyr laughed. It sounded like the wind.
"Take you? No. The ground is death. The Hollows rule the sand."
He tapped his kite-wing.
"To reach the Titan... we must fly."