Panic was a luxury they couldn't afford. Fight or flight instincts warred, but Damien stood, stepping out from behind the rock. His Storm-Eyes met the featureless sockets across the distance.
"We have no wish to shatter your silence," Damien said aloud, his voice steady. He had no idea if the artist could hear sound or only thought, but he projected the words with intent. "We seek only passage. The Heart is our objective."
The Heart? The artist's mental voice was laced with a dry, intellectual amusement. The little stillborn star? It sings a fascinating song. A duet of hunger and erasure. I have been… studying its score. But it resists my touch. Its melody is for a different kind of conductor.
The artist drifted closer, the grey mist coiling around it. It was close enough now for Damien to see details—the fine cracks in its grey skin like porcelain, the utterly empty pits of its eyes. It stopped just outside the range where its silence would affect them.
You, it focused on Damien. Your song is… complex. Frost, yes. And space. And a new, hungry note. You are trying to conduct the duet yourself. Ambitious. Foolish. But interesting.
It shifted its gaze to Lyra. And you, little fox-witch. Your song is creation and mischief. A bright counterpoint. To Kiran: Erasure given will. A clean, sharp note. To Brom: The deep, enduring bass. Marred now. Its attention lingered on Brom's void-brace. An interesting repair. Silence made into a support.
Finally, it glanced at Sylvia. And the hunter. A simple, survivalist rhythm. Predictable.
It was analyzing them like pieces of music. The arrogance was staggering, but so was the power.
"What do you want?" Kiran snapped, his void-daggers appearing in his hands.
Want? The artist seemed genuinely puzzled by the question. I want the silence unbroken. I want the songs collected. The Heart has a unique song. I cannot collect it. Perhaps you can. If you do, you may keep the score. I only wish to… listen to the performance. And to keep one copy for my archives.
It was offering a deal. A bizarre, predatory deal.
"You want us to harvest the Heart, and in return, you'll… what? Not attack us? And you get a 'copy'?" Lyra asked, incredulous.
Precisely. A memory of the event. The psychic resonance of a Singularity being conquered. It would be a masterpiece in my collection. In return, I will ensure the louder hunters do not disturb your work. I find their songs grating.
Damien's mind raced. The artist was a neutral force, motivated by aesthetic curiosity and a desire for unique experiences. It saw them as interesting instruments. This was a variable the System couldn't quantify. It was risk. It was also potential leverage.
"And if we fail? If the Heart destroys us?" Damien asked.
Then I will have the memory of your fascinating failure. And I will deal with the hunters. Either outcome has value.
Cold. Utterly amoral. But honest.
"The hunters are coming," Sylvia said, pointing. From the canyon head, a larger force was emerging—perhaps fifteen strong, moving with purpose toward the site of their lost scouts.
They are, the artist agreed, a hint of irritation in its mental tone. So noisy. Do we have an accord, little conductors?
They had seconds to decide. Fight the hunters and the artist? Or take the devil's deal?
"Accord," Damien said, the word leaving a bitter taste. "We attempt the Heart. You occupy the hunters. We give you a memory-copy upon success."
Delightful. The artist gave a slight, graceful bow. Begin your composition. I shall… dampen the discord.
It turned and flowed toward the advancing hunters, its grey mist billowing out, not as a weapon, but as a smothering blanket of stillness. The shouts of the hunters grew muffled, then silent, as they were enveloped in a sudden, eerie fog.
"Great," Kiran muttered. "We're working with a psycho who collects emotions. This is definitely better."
"Focus," Damien said, turning toward the pulsing maelstrom where the Heart waited. "We have a window. We use it."
They moved toward the storm, the sounds of battle behind them replaced by an unnatural, spreading quiet. They were now free to face the cosmic horror, courtesy of a different kind of monster. The path of conquest, it seemed, was paved with strange alliances.