The screaming didn't stop.
It went on and on, the bells of Mirrorhaven dragging themselves through note after impossible note, and underneath each one, Lin Yue could hear it now, unmistakably — voices. Thousands of them. Layered and overlapping like a choir that had been built out of throats instead of instruments.
Every face on every wall of Qin Luo's shop was screaming with them, eyes wide, mouths stretched, velvet trembling against its hooks.
"Something is wrong," Qin Luo whispered. The playfulness had drained out of their voice entirely, leaving something raw and young underneath it, something that didn't match the centuries of careful theater they'd performed only minutes earlier. "No. No, no, no — it's happening too early."
"What's happening too early?" Mu Cheng shouted over the noise, knife still raised, though there was nothing left in the room to threaten with it. "Seamstress! What is that?!"
