The silence after the Fracture is a physical thing. It is a heavy, cold, suffocating blanket that presses down on us, even more oppressive than the Miasma-tinged air of the Grak-ta city.
We are a broken, ugly mosaic of failure. We stand at the base of the true Spire, the gaping, fleshy entrance to the Hollow-God's inner sanctum that Krell and his Phalanx have cleared for us. This is the path to the 'Nexus of Truth', and none of us wants to take it.
Kizawa is the heart of that silence. He stands apart, his back to us, methodically sharpening 'Silence' against 'Storm'. The shing-shing-shing of steel on steel is a cold, rhythmic, hateful sound. It is an accusation. It is a wall. The chasm in his soul, the one I saw in the alley, has become a fortress. He is no longer my friend. He is a blade, waiting for a target.
Hachiro is the opposite. He is trying to fill the silence, and failing. He paces, his Miasma-chi burning a low, nervous green. He attempts a joke about the Grak-ta's armor, but the words die in his throat. His one good hand clenches and unclenches. He is an empath, and our collective, suffocating misery is poisoning him.
Yogawa is a statue of pure, academic terror. He is clutching his grimoire to his chest so tightly his knuckles are white. He is pale, shaking, his eyes fixed on the pulsating, fleshy maw of the Spire's entrance. He is a man of logic who has been confronted by an equation he cannot solve. He is a magician who has found a demon he cannot name, and it has broken his mind.
I am Erima. I am the Arrow. My role is to be the strategist. I am methodically counting my arrows. I have twenty-four. Not enough. I check the fletching. I test the string of my new, brutal, obsidian Grak-ta bow. It is a pragmatist's ritual. A way to focus on the math and not the chaos. But my hands are shaking.
Mizuki is the one who broke the silence. She is the 'Weapon'. She is the one this all centers on.
"We have to go up," she says.
Her voice is flat. Devoid of the fire that usually lights it. She is as empty and exhausted as the rest of us.
Yogawa makes a small, choking sound. "Go up? Into that? Into the heart of the thing that is singingmadness into our skulls? Are you insane?"
"We are all insane," Kizawa says, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. He does not turn. The shing of his blades does not stop. "We leftsanityinthesewers."
"Kizawa, man," Hachiro pleads, his voice cracking. "We... we are notready. We are broken. Look at us! Talk to us!"
Kizawa stops. The silence that followsisworse.
He sheathes his swords. Click. Clack.
He turns.
His face is gone. The boy is gone. His blueeyesarenotcold. They... areempty. They aretheAbyss.
"We are not a team, Hachiro," he states, his voiceutterlyflat. "We are acollectionofassets. She is the Key." He nodsatMizuki. "I am the Blade. Erima is the Arrow. You are the Fist. He is the liability."
He pointsatYogawa.
Yogawa flinchesasifstruck. "I... Iamascholar!"
"You... areacoward," Kizawa counters, hisvoicedevoidofmalice. Itisasimplefact. "You are afraidofthemagic. Youareafraidofthetruth."
"We are goingupthere, nottosavethiscity. NottosavetheGod. Nottosaveeachother."
He looksatMizuki, andtheemptinessinhiseyesisaphysicalblow.
"We are goingup... becauseitistheonlypathforward. Itisthemission. Krellisright. Weareinsects. Andthis... istheonlywayoutofthejar."
"KIZAWA!"
A scream.
It is notfromanyofus.
It is fromHachiro. But... itisnothisvoice.
He collapsestohisknees, hishandslockedtothesidesofhishead, hisbodyconvulsing.
The song.
The Hollow-God'ssong... haschanged.
It isnolongera *low, chronicagony. It... hasbecomeasharp, piercing, desperateSCREAM.
It isascreamof *pure, unadulteratedterror.
"It... itKNOWS!" Hachiro chokesout, salivadribblingfromhislips. "It isafraid! ItisSOAFRAID! It feelstheAssassins! ItfeelstheKing! ItisBEGGING!"
The psychicimpacthitsallofus.
Yogawa vomits.
I stumbleback, myhandonmybow, asifIcanshootasound.
Kizawa... flinches. Justaflickerinhisdeadeyes. Hefeelsittoo.
Mizuki istheonlyonewhostandsfirm.
Her silverhairisbeginningtolift, asifinastaticfield.
"It... iscallingforus," she whispers.
She looksatthe *pulsating, fleshydoorway.
"It... iscallingforits'Savior'."
She looksatKizawa. Her eyesarenotangry. They are *profoundly, achinglysad.
"I am goingup, Kizawa. Notbecauseitisthemission. NotbecauseIama'Key'.
She closeshereyes.
"I am goingup... becauseitishurting. AndIamtheonlyonewhocanstopit."
She openshereyes. They arenotempty. They arefullofa *terrible, burningresolve.
That... isthePhoenix-flame.
She turnsandtakesthefirststepintotheSpire. Intothedarkness.
Silence.
Hachiro getstohisfeet, wipinghismouth, hisfaceamaskofagonyandloyalty. He followsher.
I lookatKizawa.
He isstaringatthespacewhereshewas.
"She... isafool," he whispers.
"She... isMizuki," I whisperback.
I turnandfollowher. TheArrowfollowstheFlame.
Kizawa standsaloneintheMiasma-lightforalongsecond.
I hearhisfootstepsbehindme. Slow. Heavy. Reluctant.
The BladefollowstheArrow.
Yogawa isthelastone. He isweeping, butheknowshecannotbeleftbehind. HisfearofbeingaloneisgreaterthanhisfearoftheGod.
He... istheliability.
And hefollowsus.
The ReluctantAscenthasbegun.