Chapter 53 – The Hollow Choir
The scream echoed through the cavern like a jagged blade dragged against stone. It rose, fractured, then multiplied, splitting into dozens of voices that reverberated in unnatural harmony. The veins in the walls pulsed violently, as if the cavern itself recoiled from the sound.
Noah felt the shard thrum violently against his chest. Not a warning—more like recognition. As though whatever had screamed was connected.
Seren's blade was already drawn, her stance taut and precise. Mira's wards flared brighter, the light trembling with her own unease. Kyle took a single step forward, his sword glinting.
"It's not one thing," he muttered. "It's many."
The voices grew louder. Some shrieked, some whispered, some sang in tones that scraped across the mind. The sound coiled in Noah's skull until he pressed his hands to his ears.
Then they appeared.
The Choir
Figures emerged from the darkness—half-formed, their bodies carved from veins of crystal and fragment light. They resembled humans, yet not: their limbs elongated, torsos fractured, faces split into dozens of mouths that opened and closed in discordant unison.
They sang.
The sound wasn't language, but sensation: grief, terror, and rage woven into piercing tones. Each note pressed against Noah's chest like a hand trying to push him to his knees.
"What are they?" Mira whispered, her ward flickering under the onslaught.
Seren's jaw tightened. "Not guardians. Not illusions. They're echoes—shards of lives pulled too deep into the Veins. Not memories. Not dead. Not alive."
Kyle's grip on his sword tightened. "Then they're trapped. And they don't want us to leave."
The first figure lunged, its body twisting unnaturally, singing a note so sharp Noah felt blood bead in his ears.
The Battle of Voices
Noah raised the shard instinctively. A pulse of resonance rippled outward, colliding with the sound. For a moment, the scream faltered, but then three more voices rose, overwhelming his pulse.
Kyle moved first, his blade cleaving through one figure's torso. The creature shattered into fragments of crystal and dust—only to reform a heartbeat later, singing louder.
"They don't stay down!" Kyle shouted.
Mira thrust her hands forward, casting a wave of light. For a breath, the choir recoiled, their forms flickering. Seren darted among them, her blade severing limbs, cutting mouths closed, but each fragment reformed in moments.
Noah's shard pulsed harder, each thrum aligning with the choir's rhythm. He felt the whispers again: They are bound to you. You are their anchor. Break, and they are free.
"No," Noah hissed aloud. "I won't break!"
Counter-Song
The choir's assault was unbearable. Their song wasn't just sound—it clawed at memory, at guilt. Noah staggered as he heard his father's voice among them, then his mother's, then Kael's, then voices he couldn't even place. They accused him, mourned him, begged him.
Kyle grabbed his shoulder, grounding him. "Noah. Focus. The shard—use it! They're tied to it, aren't they?"
Noah's breath came ragged. "If I resonate too hard, I could shatter everything—us included."
"Then find another way," Kyle snapped. "But don't let them drown you."
Noah closed his eyes. He steadied his breath, recalled the lessons of the Labyrinth, the Citadel, the fragments he had survived. Control wasn't force—it was harmony.
He lifted the shard high. Instead of resisting the song, he let it flow into him. Each scream, each note, each fragment of voice twined with the shard's resonance. It hurt—gods, it burned—but he didn't push it away. He reshaped it.
And then, he sang back.
The sound was rough at first, a single note trembling from his throat. But the shard amplified it, resonating through the cavern. His voice grew stronger, steadier, weaving not grief but defiance, not rage but hope.
The choir faltered. Their discordant screams clashed with his tone, shattering against it. One by one, their fractured bodies wavered.
The Shattering
"Keep singing!" Seren shouted, cutting down another reforming echo.
Mira joined him, her voice weaving into his. Her magic wrapped the notes in light, strengthening the resonance. The air vibrated so hard the cavern walls shook.
Kyle and Seren pressed the advantage, cutting down the staggering figures as Noah and Mira's harmony tore through their voices.
The choir screamed louder, desperate, fractured. Their many mouths opened wide, their crystal forms cracking as Noah's song filled the cavern.
Then, with one last, piercing note, the shard blazed. A shockwave of resonance burst outward, and the figures shattered into dust and shards of crystal that dissolved into the veins.
Silence fell.
Aftermath
Noah collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving. The shard still pulsed, but softer now, as though sated.
Kyle knelt beside him, gripping his shoulder. "You did it. You turned their song back on them."
Noah wiped blood from his ear, his voice hoarse. "Not destroyed. Released. They weren't enemies… they were prisoners."
Mira lowered her hands slowly, exhaustion etched across her face. "Prisoners who almost killed us."
Seren sheathed her blade, scanning the now-still cavern. "If the shards hold voices like that, then every step we take deeper binds us closer to what they are. We need to be careful. This wasn't just a fight—it was a warning."
Kyle's gaze lingered on Noah. "And you're the one they're bound to. Which means if you lose control…"
Noah finished for him, voice low. "They'll come back."
The Final Whisper
As they regrouped, Noah felt the whisper again.
You cannot hold them forever. The choir is endless. Every life lost to the Veins will find you. You will carry them all.
He grit his teeth. "Then I'll carry them. Better me than letting them wander in silence."
The voice paused. Then it laughed, soft and cruel. You believe that now. But what happens when their voices drown out your own?
The shard pulsed once, then fell silent again.
Moving Deeper
They pressed onward, shaken but not broken. The cavern narrowed, the veins twisting into a tunnel that sloped ever downward. The silence now was oppressive, like the walls were holding their breath.
Kyle walked beside Noah, close enough their shoulders brushed. "You almost lost yourself back there."
"I know," Noah admitted. "But I didn't."
Kyle smirked faintly. "Then keep it that way. I'm not in the mood to fight another choir."
Despite the weight in his chest, Noah managed a weak smile. "Deal."
They walked on, the darkness swallowing them. Ahead, faint light flickered—the promise of another chamber, another trial.
But the memory of the Hollow Choir lingered, etched into their bones. And Noah knew the whisper had been right about one thing.
The voices weren't gone. They were inside him now.
Waiting.