Reckoning in Silence
They sat in the cold, dimly lit chamber beneath the military outpost — a place meant for interrogation, though it felt more like a tomb. The stone walls, rough and damp, were lined with faintly glowing runes designed to suppress aura and magic alike. Even Night, curled around Solace's neck like a serpent carved from onyx, had gone still. The oppressive weight of the room pressed down until every breath was a quiet struggle, until even thoughts felt muffled, stripped of their edge.
Across from them sat General Francis. His face was carved from stone, unmoving, unreadable. His presence filled the room with a suffocating gravity. His lieutenants stood on either side of him — Jane among them, her eyes flicking between Solace and Lyra with quiet worry rather than condemnation. She understood more than most. Orion lingered near the back of the room, arms crossed tightly, still uneasy in spaces like this, where silence became a weapon.
The general spoke at last, his voice flat, almost hollow.
"Explain."
No anger. No heat. Just a single word that fell between them like a stone into deep water, sending ripples through the air. An expectation that would not yield.
Solace said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on the polished steel table between them. The warped reflection of his face stared back — pale, gaunt, exhausted. He searched for words and found none. The silence stretched, drawn tight as a noose.
Francis spoke again, softer, yet heavier.
"Why did you attack him?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with weight. It was not simply curiosity — it was necessity. The room demanded truth.
Solace swallowed, throat dry as ash.
"He found us," he murmured at last, the words rasping from his throat like a confession.
Francis's eyes narrowed, sharp as blades.
"Dravik was held in high-security confinement. He was under constant watch for provoking unrest outside the southern gate. Inexplicably, he broke free — for three minutes, maybe less. And in that span, you reduced half a district to rubble."
The general paused, the silence that followed as suffocating as the stone walls. His gaze turned sharp, cutting.
"Why?"
Solace closed his eyes. He remembered the scent of burned stone and shattered glass. The taste of blood in his mouth. The crushing pressure of Dravik's presence, like an avalanche bearing down. He remembered how that man's eyes had burned with desire — not for destruction, but for possession. For his artifact. For them.
He had first encountered Dravik in the ruins beyond the rift: a place where the sun never fully rose and every shadow harbored claws. Dravik had hunted them then, his hunger palpable, driving them from crumbled shelter to broken sanctuary, never far behind. They had barely escaped.
And now, he'd found them again. He had not run. He had waited. Waiting for the right moment to strike, to tear it from Solace's hand, to take everything.
Solace's voice was low, measured.
"Because if I hadn't... he would have killed us."
Francis inhaled slowly.
"You think that justifies it?"
Lyra's voice was soft, but beneath it, something trembled.
"It wasn't self-defense. It was survival."
Her hands lay still on her thighs, but her aura roiled beneath her skin like a storm contained in glass. Her shadows had surged against Dravik, but it hadn't been enough. Nothing had been enough.
"He came for us," Lyra continued, her voice steady despite the weight in her chest. "The moment he broke free, he wasn't fleeing. He was hunting."
Francis's gaze was cold steel.
"You should have reported it. You should have stood down and let us handle him."
Lyra's breath caught. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"He wouldn't have allowed that. The second we hesitated... we would've been corpses. He wasn't going to be detained. He was going to finish what he started."
Francis's eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them, they were colder still.
"So you believe he's been tracking you... all this time."
Solace nodded once.
"He saw my artifact. That was enough. His desire hollowed him out. He was never going to stop."
The general exhaled, a slow breath that did nothing to soften the lines of exhaustion carved into his face.
"The damage you caused is astronomical. Infrastructure destroyed. Civilians displaced. The cost in resources will be felt for months."
He leaned forward.
"You've shattered trust. The civilians may have survived, but they saw what you did. And they fear you now."
The silence after was heavy, suffocating.
Lyra looked down, her voice small but firm.
"We acted because there was no time to hesitate. If we had, you'd be holding our corpses in this room instead."
Francis stood slowly. His voice was low, but ice laced every word.
"You are soldiers. You follow orders. Instinct is not an excuse."
Solace's gaze lifted, meeting the general's head-on.
"Instinct is what kept me alive long before I ever wore this uniform. It's what brought us back from places no one returns from. Orders didn't save us. Orders left us for dead."
The silence cracked. Jane shifted, discomfort visible in her eyes. Orion looked down at his boots.
Francis's expression hardened.
"You're dangerous. Both of you."
His hands clasped behind his back.
"I won't court-martial you — yet. But you will answer for the destruction you've wrought. You are confined to base. No missions. No privileges. Disobey this, and I will strip your ranks and have you detained."
He turned, walking toward the door. His parting words were colder than stone.
"Dismissed."
The heavy door groaned open. They stood, slow and reluctant, and left without a word. Night stirred on Solace's shoulders, but it made no sound.
Outside, the cold night air sliced through their uniforms. Their breath misted in the dark. They walked in silence, boots crunching against frost-laced gravel. The sky above was endless and black, heavy with unseen stars.
"He's right," Lyra whispered finally, voice brittle.
Solace said nothing. He didn't have it in him to argue. The weight on his shoulders felt heavier than any chain.
They reached their quarters in silence. Neither looked at the other as the door shut behind them.
But the silence between them wasn't empty.
There was something there.
A pressure. A presence. Watching.
Solace sat on the edge of his cot, staring at nothing.
Lyra stood near the window, arms crossed, her shadow subdued but restless. Night curled tighter around his neck, eyes glinting faintly in the darkness.
A shiver passed through him, but not from the cold.
Dravik had been the beginning. A shadow chasing them from their past. But now, there were other shadows. Ones they couldn't name yet.
Solace's hand drifted to his artifact, hidden beneath his sleeve in its resting form — a ring, plain and unremarkable. But it pulsed faintly with heat, as if whispering that it, too, felt what lingered in the dark.
They wouldn't be allowed to rest for long.
And next time... there would be no restraint.
Only reckoning.
In silence.