The echoes of the Listener lingered long after its porcelain corpse had melted into the cobblestones. Every step I took felt wrong, as if silence itself had lodged splinters into my marrow. My throat burned with each breath. Words, once cheap and constant, now scraped raw whenever they tried to escape.
We left the Wicker Quarter behind, though the fog followed like a wounded animal. It dragged through the alleys, curling into corners, whispering faint fragments of my own withheld voice. Each time I turned my head, I thought I saw shards of porcelain in the mist, drifting like teeth scattered on a tide.
Seraphine walked ahead, iron arm steaming faintly. The runes etched into her metal bones pulsed with a dull glow, still hot from striking the Listener's form apart. She was quiet, but it was not her usual measured silence. This was something heavier, something weighed down.
"You should have spoken," she said at last, her back to me.
I rasped, my voice cracked and small: "The Ledger forbade it."
She turned her head slightly, eyes flashing like stormlight. "The Ledger doesn't pay the cost. You do. You think it cares whether your throat bleeds or your marrow withers? It only cares for the account."
I didn't answer. Couldn't, perhaps. Even swallowing hurt, my throat scraped raw by silence.
The Ledger pulsed at my ribs, words burning into its page:
Balance Recorded. Witnesses logged: 27.
Ledger-bearer Integrity—Reduced.
Effect: Splintered Voice.
I snapped it shut before Seraphine could glimpse the page. I did not need her pity, nor her anger. Both were heavier than I could carry now.
We crossed a narrow bridge of rotting planks stretched over a canal. The water below was black, sluggish, clogged with weeds and pale shapes I didn't dare name. Lanterns burned low on either side, their flames shivering though the night was still. Somewhere beneath the water, something sighed.
I clutched the Ledger tighter. My candle-mark glowed faintly, casting weak light that flickered across the water's surface. For a moment, I saw my reflection. But it wasn't me. My mouth was open wider than possible, stretching into a hollow scream. My chest was cracked porcelain, leaking ink. I blinked, and it was gone. Only water. Only fog.
Seraphine stopped halfway across, staring down into the canal. Her shoulders were rigid, her iron arm twitching faintly. "Varrow," she said slowly. "Do you hear it?"
I strained, and there it was again—that sigh, deep and ragged, like lungs drowning. Then a second sigh. A third. Until the canal itself seemed to breathe beneath us.
The Ledger twitched violently, snapping open:
Phenomenon Detected: Drowned Choir.
Effect: Absorbs voices lost to silence.
Directive: Avoid resonance. Do not speak.
I coughed against my bleeding throat. Do not speak. That much I could obey.
But Seraphine turned to me, her eyes wide, lips moving. I couldn't hear her words. The canal's sighs drowned her out, swallowing sound. Her iron arm flared with warning runes, and I realized she was shouting—but all I heard was the ragged choir beneath the water.
Hands broke the surface. Dozens of them. Pale, dripping, clutching at the air. Fingers scraped against the bridge planks. Faces followed, bloated and slack, eyes wide but mouths sealed shut. Their silence pressed against my skull until I thought my ears would rupture.
The Ledger inked frantically:
Threat Escalation. Choir seeks vessel.
Cost of Resistance: One truth or marrow beat.
I couldn't. My throat was raw. My marrow was brittle. My truths were knives already lodged in my ribs. To give another would cut me hollow.
Seraphine fired her pistol. The shot cracked sharp, runes flaring along its barrel. One of the faces burst apart, scattering mist and brine. But the rest climbed higher, hands slapping wood, dragging their bodies upward.
The bridge shook. The canal groaned with its choir. Seraphine's gun clicked empty. She hurled it aside, iron arm blazing, but even she could not hold them back alone.
I stumbled, clutching the Ledger. It writhed like a living thing, pages whipping. A single line burned bright:
Counter-script: Splintered Song.
Cost: Voice fracture deepens. Identity erodes.
I gasped, blood trickling from my lips. My voice was already shattered. My identity already blurred. But there was no choice. I opened my mouth, and the words came jagged, cutting my throat like glass.
"I—am—not—yours!"
The sound wasn't sound. It was a broken scream, shards of voice hurled into the night. The canal shrieked in answer, the Drowned Choir convulsing as if struck. Their hands recoiled, their faces cracked like porcelain. One by one, they shattered into spray, their sighs dissolving into mist.
The canal went still. Silent once more.
I collapsed to my knees, my throat on fire. Seraphine dragged me up with her human hand, eyes blazing with worry. "You're burning yourself away," she whispered.
The Ledger etched its judgment:
Debtor fragment scattered. Balance incomplete.
Cost: Voice nearly lost. Identity unstable.
I clutched the book, trembling. Splinters of silence cut me from the inside. Words felt like broken teeth in my mouth. But the canal was still, and the bridge stood.
For now.
—End of Chapter 21—