At four years old, I had become an expert in the "Logic of Silence."
The village of Oakhaven treated me like a ghost that had forgotten to leave. To them, I was the "Miracle of the Red Valley"—the only living thing found in a field of corpses and broken steel when Kael's mercenary company passed through. They saw my survival as a sign from the gods; they just couldn't decide if the sign was a blessing or a warning.
I sat on the back porch, watching Joran. My brother was nine now, and he had taken it upon himself to be my shadow.
"It wasn't your fault, Satan," Joran whispered, his voice trembling as he sat beside me. He was referring to the bird from the day before. "It was already broken. The fall... it was just too much for something so small."
I looked at Joran. He was trying to convince himself more than me. He didn't want to believe that the coldness he felt when I touched the bird came from me. He wanted to believe the bird had simply run out of time.
"Death is just the final calculation, Joran," I said. My voice was small, but it carried a density that didn't belong to a child. "The bird stopped being efficient. It stopped being logical."
Joran flinched, but he didn't move away. Instead, he reached out and gripped my hand. His palm was warm, sweating with anxiety. "Don't talk like that. You're a survivor. You're here because you fought to stay. That's what Father says."
I didn't tell him that I hadn't fought. I had simply existed while everything around me ceased to.
The peace was broken by a group of village boys hovering near the fence. Tomas, the oldest at ten, was tossing a stone up and down. His face was twisted with the kind of cruelty only children can manage—a fear turned into aggression.
"Hey, Joran!" Tomas shouted. "Is the freak talking yet? Or is he still just staring at the grass like he's counting the blades?"
Joran stood up, pulling me behind him. It was a reflex now. He knew the village was starting to whisper about the "Cold Child." He knew that if the family didn't protect me, the superstition of the farmers would eventually turn into pitchforks.
"Go away, Tomas," Joran called out. "We're busy."
"Busy doing what? Practicing your funeral?" Tomas stepped over the fence, his friends following. "My dad says the Red Valley was cursed. He says nothing living should have come out of that blood. He says you're carrying a demon in a boy's skin."
Tomas threw the stone. It wasn't meant to kill, just to bruise. It flew toward my face with a clumsy, arc-like trajectory.
I felt the Marble of Darkness in my chest stir. It didn't pulse; it expanded, a cold ink spreading through my veins. I didn't want to hurt them—that would be illogical and bring the village elders to our door. I just needed the stone to stop existing in my space.
As the stone came within a foot of me, I focused on the "Weight" of the air.
The stone didn't hit me. It didn't bounce off a shield. It simply lost its momentum, dropping straight to the dirt as if it had suddenly become made of lead.
The boys froze. Joran, who had been ready to jump in front of me, stared at the stone. It hadn't just fallen; it had buried itself an inch deep into the hard-packed earth.
"What... what did you do?" Tomas gasped, his bravado vanishing instantly.
"The stone was tired of flying," I said, stepping out from behind Joran. I looked at Tomas, letting just a sliver of the "Hollow" show in my eyes. "Gravity is a law, Tomas. I just helped it enforce it."
Tomas backed away, his face pale. "Monster... he's a monster!" He turned and bolted, his friends tripping over themselves to follow.
The clearing went silent. Joran turned to me, his eyes wide with a terrifying realization. He didn't pull his hand away, but he looked at me like I was a mountain that might collapse at any moment.
"Satan..." he whispered. "How did you...?"
"The world is heavy, Joran," I said, my face returning to its usual expressionless mask. "Some of us just feel it more than others."
Joran didn't say anything. He just squeezed my hand tighter, his grip almost painful. He wasn't protecting me from the village anymore; he was trying to hold onto me so I wouldn't drift further into the dark.
I let him. If Joran wanted to be the bridge between me and humanity, I would use that bridge until I was strong enough to walk on the air itself.