In the cold, stark heart of the Hallowed See of Argenta, the day of the Silent Night was not met with fear, but with a grim, pious ceremony. The pale northern sun did little to warm the vast, grey flagstones of the Grand Templar's Square, which sat before the imposing facade of the Grand Temple of Luminous. A biting wind whipped through the city, carrying with it the faint, almost imperceptible hum of immense power.
Lining the city's perimeter, silent rows of Paladins in polished steel armor and Priests in simple white robes stood like statues, their hands outstretched. From them flowed a constant stream of energy, feeding the great barrier, a shimmering, silent curtain of silver light that encapsulated the entire holy city, sealing it off from the horrors of the coming night.
From a high balcony on the temple, the Hierophant, Theron Varrus, watched the proceedings below, his face an unreadable mask of serene authority. He gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. The command was given.
In the center of the square, a long line of kneeling prisoners shivered in the cold. Their heads were shaved, their bodies clad in rough, grey spun tunics. They were this month's harvest of criminals and heretics—thieves and murderers kneeling beside scholars who had read forbidden texts, and artists whose work was deemed too individualistic.
The Grand Inquisitor, Malachi, a gaunt man in robes of black and silver with eyes that burned with zealous fire, walked slowly down the line, his steel-shod boots clicking ominously on the stone. He stopped at the head of the line, turning to address them all. His voice was not a shout, but a cold, clear pronouncement that carried across the entire square, a voice that needed no magical amplification.
"You stand accused," he began, his voice cutting through the wind. "Accused of theft, of murder, of dissent, of thought-crime. You are children of the Long Night, tainted by the Wild Spark of chaos and self-interest. You have defied the pure, orderly stillness of the Silent Light."
He paced before them, his gaze sweeping over their bowed heads with utter contempt. "But the Light, in its infinite austerity, offers one final path to purification. One final trial to burn away your sins."
He gestured to the massive, iron-bound gates at the edge of the square, the only break in the shimmering silver barrier. "Tonight, the Silent Night will be your judge. The entity you call The Hush is the true, unbiased voice of the Silent Light, and it will find you wanting or it will find you worthy."
The heavy gates began to groan open, revealing the cold, dark wilderness that lay beyond the city's grace.
"You will be cast out," Malachi declared. "You will face the crucible of the Silent Night without the protection of this holy barrier. If your soul is truly repentant, if the Light deems you worthy of a second chance, you will survive. If you are alive when the sun next graces the sky, your sins, and your crimes, will be washed away. You will be free." He offered them a thin, cruel smile. "If you are not... then your soul was too corrupt to be saved, and you will have met the purity you so desperately lacked in life."
Impassive Paladin guards moved forward, grabbing the prisoners by their arms and hauling them to their feet. They were pushed, shoved, and herded through the open gates, out into the unhallowed dark beyond the city's protection.
The last prisoner was cast out. The great iron gates groaned shut, the final, booming clang of metal on metal sealing their fate.
From his balcony, the Hierophant Theron Varrus raised a single, decisive hand. The shimmering silver barrier behind the gates solidified, becoming an opaque, impenetrable wall of light.
Outside, in the growing twilight, the prisoners huddled together in terror. And then, it began. A soft, sibilant sound, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
…
The sun dipped below the horizon, and as the last vestiges of twilight faded, it began.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
In Café LeBlanc, Soma, who had just finished washing the last of the day's dishes, froze. "Holy shit..." he whispered, his eyes wide. "It feels like it's coming from every corner of my senses at once."
Legolas, who had been reading in the corner, closed his book with a soft snap. "It is too distracting," he said, his elven senses overwhelmed by the omnipresent, sibilant sound. He closed his eyes and his consciousness retreated to the relative quiet of the Animus Hub.
"Now what?" Zero said to the empty room.
CRUNCH.
A wet, sickening sound of tearing flesh and snapping bone, amplified and echoing as if it were happening right outside their window, suddenly replaced the hushing.
Soma held a hand to his mouth, his face turning a pale green. "Ugh, nope," he gagged. "I'm gonna puke." He hurriedly ran to the bathroom.
Zero, now free to move his head, turned to look out the window. The sky was no longer a familiar, starry night. It was obscured by a vast, shifting mass of pale, fleshy, translucent skin, a colossal, amorphous cloak that seemed to cover the heavens. He could see through it, to the stars beyond, but it was like looking through a grotesque, living veil. "I'm starting to miss my old life," he muttered, "the one that was just full of the misfortune of stepping in poop."
…
Meanwhile, from the top of the Hao Pavilion, Sebas watched the city below. The streets were empty, but patrols of Watchers moved in disciplined formations, their rune-lights cutting through the eerie quiet, making sure there were no stragglers, and worse, no victims of The Hush on the city grounds.
High above, a new patrol had appeared. Rows of mages from the Athenean Concord, their robes glowing with protective wards, floated through the air. Sebas recognized the sigils of the Spire of Providence, the tower that specialized in the school of Abjuration magic. They were the barrier-checkers, the first and only line of defense against a breach.
…
In the Watcher trainee dormitory, Erwin stood at his window, looking up at the same grotesque, fleshy sky.
"Erwin," a voice said from behind him. "You're not thinking of trying to fight that thing, are you?"
He turned to see one of his dorm-mates. "Of course not," Erwin replied. "It's just a distracting sound, that's all."
"It's annoying," the roommate said, "but at least if you get eaten by it, none of us will remember you." He then smirked. "Though, I doubt that's possible anymore, since your face is all over the papers."
"Of course," another roommate added from his bunk. "He's the Golden Commander himself. Probably has a plan to arrest it for disturbing the peace."
Erwin just chuckled. Just then, the crunching sound stopped, and the oppressive, all-encompassing hushing returned.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
As the sound started, Erwin looked up at the sky with only his eyes. The pale, fleshy cloak was gone. The stars were clear and sharp in the normal night sky once more. It was chillingly, terrifyingly real. The sound itself was the only thing preventing them from perceiving it.
…
Erwin's form materialized in the Animus Hub. He saw Soma lying on a manifested bed, looking pale. Legolas was at a large drafting table, sketching furiously on a piece of parchment. And Zero was on the floor, surrounded by a pile of colorful plastic bricks, meticulously building something.
"How was the outside?" Soma asked from the bed, his voice weak. "Is the cosmic mukbang still going on?"
"If that's what you want to call it, then yes," Erwin replied, walking over to the group.
Zero, carefully placing a small blue brick onto his creation, looked up. "It's weird, though. The Silent Night just started, and it's already eaten someone. That's fast."
"We suspect the Theocracy has something to do with it," Erwin said. "But we can't be sure."
Just then, Sebas's form appeared. "We are sure it is the Theocracy," he stated, his voice calm and definitive. He walked over to Zero's table and conjured a chair, sitting down with his usual grace. A fresh cup of tea appeared in his hand. "One of my spiders," he began, "heard a story from a navy crew last night."
"Did this 'spider' hear it in person, or was it just hearsay?" Zero asked, connecting another Lego brick.
"She was the courtesan serving the naval officer in question," Sebas replied smoothly.
Erwin conjured his own cup of tea. "Well, go on. Tell us what your spider found."
"The Theocracy," Sebas explained, "conducts a monthly 'trial' for its criminals and heretics. They round them up and cast them out beyond their city's barrier just before the Silent Night begins. They let the entity be the judge and executioner. You could say it's their... legal system."
"That's hardcore," Erwin said, a grim look on his face.
"That's why the sound of eating and those sickening crunches keep happening repeatedly," Zero realized.
"Yes," Sebas confirmed. "It will likely become less frequent once the supply of prisoners in the Theocracy is exhausted for the night."
"Is the intel solid?" Erwin asked.
"The naval officer is quite high on the command ladder, so I would rate the core information as 50-60% likely to be true."
"That's a pretty low percentage," Zero noted.
Sebas chuckled softly. "You could say he was also boasting to impress the girls. In the end, he did not... satisfy... the spider's expectations at all. So we can assume a man of such poor performance is also likely to boast and exaggerate."
Zero chuckled. He placed the final brick on his creation and held it up. "Tadaa! It's good, right?"
Sebas and Erwin looked at the Lego creation. It was a perfect, miniature model of Café LeBlanc. There were even tiny Lego figures of Soma, Sebas, Erwin, and Legolas.
Legolas looked up from his drawing, his keen elven eyes noticing a detail. "Where are you?" he asked Zero.
"Well, I'm all of you," Zero said with a grin. "So there's no need for redundancy, hehe."
Soma, who had gotten up to look, pointed a finger at the model. "I don't place my knives there," he complained.
"Then make your own," Zero shot back.
…
Outside the great silver barrier of Argenta, a woman, a 'heretic', crawled backward through the cold mud, her breath coming in ragged, terrified sobs. A curtain of pale, translucent flesh descended from the sky before her, and from it, a mouth that was a cavern of wet, grinding sounds opened. It had hollow, weeping eyes, sockets that dripped a clear, viscous fluid as it lowered itself over another of the condemned.
The woman scrambled away, her back hitting the cold, unfeeling energy of the barrier. She looked through it, at the city she called home. The silent, praying rows of Paladins and Priests looked like illustrations from the holy storybooks her mother used to read to her. She had always been a believer. She had thanked the Silent Light for every meager meal, for every day she and her family survived. Her life was hard, but she believed it was a blessed one.
But then the Wild Spark had awakened within her. A small, controllable flicker of magic, a talent she never asked for. And for that potential, she was cast out.
Through the shimmering wall, she saw her mother. A desperate cry tore from her throat as she banged her fists against the barrier. "Mother! Please! Help me!"
But her mother, like all the others, the baker she always helped, the priest she gave her last coins to, was kneeling. Their eyes were closed, their faces tilted up in pious prayer, not to the gate where their daughter was about to die, but to the grotesque, flesh-covered sky, as if the being they worshipped and the being that was about to devour them were one and the same.
The pleas died in her throat. The faith in her heart, the belief that had sustained her through a life of hardship, didn't just break. It shattered. And in its place, a cold, silent void.
She stopped crawling. She slowly, deliberately, got to her feet. She turned her back on the city of the blind and faced the horror.
She looked straight forward. She saw the being eat another 'heretic', then another, and another. The blood, at first a distant spray, began to reach her, a warm, crimson rain that splattered across her face. The sickening crunch that the whole world could hear was happening ten feet in front of her, a visceral, intimate concert of death.
The Hush's hollow eyes, which had been closed in its gluttony, opened. As it latched onto another victim, its dripping, empty gaze locked onto the woman. She didn't look away. She didn't scream. She just stared back.
And as their eyes met, something shifted. A new language bloomed in the void where her faith used to be. A language of hunger, of silence, of a truth far older and colder than any prayer. Her hand, slick with the blood of another, moved as if of its own accord. She reached out and touched the mangled, pale flesh of The Hush. It felt cold, yielding, like damp clay.
She tore a piece away and ate.
She kept her eyes locked on The Hush's hollow gaze as she chewed and swallowed. The being didn't even react. It just kept eating its own meal, the two of them sharing a grotesque, silent communion.
The last of the criminals was eaten. The last crunch echoed and faded. The bodies, the blood, the very evidence of their existence, dissolved into nothing. The pale being, its feast complete, began to make the sound again.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
And as it hushed, it vanished.
The woman stood alone in the cold, dark wilderness. She turned one last time to look at the impenetrable silver gate of the city that had betrayed her. She opened her mouth.
The sound that came from her was not human. It was the same sibilant, all-encompassing whisper of the night. And as she hushed, her form blurred, becoming a transparent, fleeting thing before vanishing completely, leaving behind nothing but the cold wind and the memory of a prayer that was never answered.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
*A/N*
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*A/N*