The silence that followed was the wrong kind of silence — the kind that feels carved out of the world with a dull blade.
No echoes. No breath. Just the empty hush of something that had ended in a way it should never have ended.
The Professor's husk lay twisted on the dirt floor, limbs stiff like a puppet no one loved enough to put away properly.
The sulfur stench faded first, replaced by the sharp winter wind that bit at exposed skin. Then the copper scent thinned. Only one remained — a strange sweetness I couldn't name, like wilting flowers laid over a fresh grave.
Everything that had made this shack feel safe — the walls, the fire, the idea of a roof — felt tainted.
Like we were trespassing on a corpse.
And the whisper…
"Daughter of the Pale Monarch… Seere of the Court of Envy greets you."
That mocking laugh at the end still slithered through the air, the last fingerprint of the thing that had taken her.
I swallowed hard.
"Victoria… we should—"
But my voice died.
Because the door opened.
Slow. Deliberate. Like whoever stood outside was savoring our fear.
A man stepped in, brushing snow from his shoulders as though entering a warm tavern, not a room where someone had just been dragged into hell.
His eyes — gods — they were bright. Too bright. Clear like polished glass reflecting lightning. When they landed on me, I stepped back instinctively and collided with Victoria, who grabbed my sleeve.
"Oh! Paige," he said without looking behind him, "He's dead — haha."
He laughed. At the corpse.
Not a hysterical laugh. Not a cruel one. Just bored.
He crouched beside the Professor's body and poked her arm with a gloved finger, still not acknowledging we existed.
A second voice came in behind him, softer but firmer.
"Lucius, it isn't something to laugh about. Miss Seliregina did you a favour by trying to help one of your people."
Then she stepped into the shack.
Silver-white hair, eyes sharp as cut glass. She carried herself like someone who had been obeyed her whole life — not through fear, but because people understood she could crush them if she had to.
"That she is," the woman — Paige — said. "If only you didn't waste our time."
Her gaze swept the room. The corpse. The blood. Us.
"Oh! Why didn't you mention we had company?"
Lucius blinked like a man just waking up from a nap.
"What? Where?" He lifted his eyes from the corpse and looked straight at us. His expression didn't change. "I see no company. Only lively insects. I acknowledge none."
He smiled — polite, empty, the kind worn by nobles at funerals they don't care about — and turned back to Paige.
"Well, a deal is a deal. The Synagogue will pay you as promised."
He pulled a napkin from his pocket, wiped his gloves meticulously, and stood.
"To get paid twice…" he mused aloud, smiling to himself. "Sometimes I wonder who the devil really is."
He tilted his head at Paige.
"Give my regards to Miss Seliregina."
He crossed the threshold — and immediately another man stepped in.
Same eyes. Same unnerving clarity. But this one wore a perfectly pressed black suit, not a speck of snow daring to cling to him. He nodded once to Paige, then lifted the Professor's husk like luggage.
The body sagged over his shoulder. Whatever had once made her human was long gone.
He walked out the door, and just like that, both men vanished into the red-lit night.
In the quiet that followed, the only sound was the faint crunch of snow and the distant creak of wagon wheels. Horses snorted, hooves shifting — and then the noise grew fainter.
Until the night swallowed it whole.
Paige sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"So," she said, voice casual in a way that felt utterly insane, "what do you two plan on doing now?"
Qi surged to my palm. My body moved before my mind did — threat instinct.
Victoria's hand was already on her pistol. Her stance was shaky, but her aim was steady.
Paige didn't move.
Her back stayed to the open door. Hands visible. No weapons drawn.
"I would rather we not fight," she said. "Not tonight."
I didn't trust her. Couldn't. Not after what we'd seen. Not with those… creatures she worked with. But the way she said it — steady, unbothered, like she could kill us both but didn't feel like it — made my pulse stutter.
Victoria spoke first.
"We… need to get to the Capital."
I snapped my head toward her.
The Capital? Now? After everything?
But her face was set. Determined through the fear.
Paige looked at her for a long moment. Assessing. Measuring.
Her eyes flicked to mine, reading the leftover tremor in my fingers.
That man — Lucius — had pinned us in place with nothing but his gaze.
Even now, my muscles remembered the weight of it.
Paige finally nodded.
"Alright," she said simply. "Let's go."
No argument. No warning. Just a choice made as easily as taking a breath.
She stepped outside into the crimson-lit night.
Victoria followed closely behind her, boots crunching on the snow. When she passed the threshold, she exhaled like she'd been holding her breath this entire time.
I lingered in the doorway for a heartbeat.
The shack felt haunted now — by death, by envy, by the echo of a soul screaming silently in a purple void.
When I finally stepped out, the cold snapped at my face. The world outside was washed in blood-red light. Snow glittered like crushed rubies. The moon stared down with the unblinking eye of a god who had stopped pretending to care.
Victoria stood ahead, shoulders tense.
Paige waited with her hands tucked behind her back, patient as a schoolteacher expecting children to fall in line.
I pulled my coat tighter and breathed in the winter air.
We walked away from the shack.
Away from the husk.
Away from the echo of Seere's laugh.
Into the red-lit night.
Into whatever waited for us next.
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