**Kelly Thompson's POV** The new song isn't a song-it's a *snare*. The note lingers, a silver thread in the air that hums with Eden's timbre, Eden's pain. I follow it, the static in my veins pulsing like a compass needle. The Hunter trails behind, his breath uneven, his crow-feather coat singed an
**Kelly Thompson's POV** The wasteland isn't dead-it's *digesting*. Gray dust shifts like the innards of some colossal beast, the air thick with the metallic tang of half-formed realities. Eden stands ahead, his silhouette haloed by a sickly amber sky. His scars, once jagged cracks of gold, now pu
"Enough," he growls. The Archivist snarls. "You're out of bounds, Hunter." He ignores her, turning to me. "Get up. Unless you want to be a footnote." The static recognizes him. Not his face-his *essence*. He smells of blood and static, like me. "Who are you?" I demand. He sheathes his blade. "S
**Kelly Thompson's POV** The forest isn't a forest anymore. It's a *museum*. Trees stand petrified, their bark replaced by veins of obsidian and quartz, leaves fossilized into shards of jagged glass. The air smells of burnt sugar and rust, the ground crunching underfoot like shattered bone. The S
He gestures to the trees. They part, revealing a clearing where a pool of liquid light shimmers, its surface reflecting a world untouched by the Silence-a world of endless storms, of power without end. *"Step into the light,"* the figure croons. *"And the Silence will pass you by."* Eden's gaze fl
*"You dare-"* I *pull*, tearing the static from her grip. The storm isn't mine-it's *hers*. The First Silence's own power, turned against it. The pit convulses, the stillness fracturing. The girl screams, her void-eyes leaking black tears. *"You'll doom us all!"* Eden rises, swaying. His bloodied