Chapter 1
Arynn
Cold nights were the deadliest.
My small fire flickered in the chill wind, casting fingerlike shadows on the walls of the ruined farmhouse. Only a few walls still stood, jagged edges open to the sky, and a broken piece of roof sagged overhead like a broken wing. The structure creaked ominously when hit by a particular strong burst of the wind. The scent of dry earth and things long dead clung to the place, thick and sour at the back of my throat.
Heavy clouds covered the moon, hinting at rain. But it hadn’t rained in months, even though it was the rainy season. The grass outside crunched beneath my boots as I approached, calling out in case anyone else had the same idea as me. Only the rush of wind answered.
Huddling over the small blaze, my hands stretched close, I tried to thaw my fingers, when a sudden shiver, like icy spiders, ran down my spine. Instantly, I shot to my feet, dagger in hand, every sense on alert.
Darkness pressed in from every side, though most of it was ordinary night.
Most.
But there were pockets of something else, something that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. One shape in particular drifted out from a corner, as if peeling itself off the wall.
It hovered at the edge of the firelight, shifting and indistinct, its eyes (if that’s what they were) devouring the light instead of reflecting it. The rest of it looked like an inky shadow, oily and murky, all tall, gaunt limbs and claws.
A sudden wave of dread nearly made me drop my dagger.
Dissonants.
The word rose up from the broken fragments of my memory, like a ghost haunting the back of my mind. I didn’t know precisely what these creatures were—beyond the barest scraps of knowledge I’d gleaned from rumors.
But I knew enough to be afraid.
They came from the Silence, or so the whispers said, spawned by the darkest, most selfish choices mortals made. The hatred, the cruelty, the festering arrogance that built up in people—it all congealed into these warped, twisted horrors that fed on despair.
And if the tension in my chest was any clue, this place held more than its fair share of despair.
Another one dripped like sludge from the last piece of roof. A third slithered out from beneath the crooked step leading into the farmhouse, every movement a sickening glide over the crumbling stone.
My stomach lurched at the sight—three Dissonants in a place this remote?
Something about that felt profoundly wrong.
They only gathered where there was plenty of negative energy to feast on: human pride, selfishness, anger.
But I was the only person here, and I’d barely been around long enough to cause so much as a stir.
Which meant they were here because of me.
Fuck.
I tried to swallow, but my throat felt tight, like I’d just gulped down a mouthful of sand. The wind stirred what remained of my dying fire, making it sputter and spit angrily against the cold.
My grip on the dagger turned my knuckles white as the first Dissonant slithered closer, its shape indistinct yet still unmistakably hostile. My heart hammered in my chest to the same insistent beat that surged in my lungs, calling forth a melody I only half-understood.
Steeling myself, I sucked in a breath, letting a single note escape.
It wavered at first, but I refused to let my fear silence me.
All three Dissonants hissed in unison, a discordant note that made my skin prickle. They had those cold, hollow stares that always got under my skin—like they were daring me to run, promising it’d be a lost cause if I did.
Planting my feet, I forced my song to swell, weaving notes that reverberated in the still air. Strange, pulsing words drifted into my mind—words I didn’t recognize but that painted flashes of gleaming swords and righteous victory. It was as if I were calling on a power hidden in my bones, a half-remembered lullaby turned war cry.
The first Dissonant wasted no time.
It lunged in a lurching sprint, limbs all askew, bony arms flailing. My pulse spiked, but I pivoted aside, plunging the dagger straight into its chest. For a heartbeat, it paused, maw opened in a soundless shriek. Then it dissolved into an oily mist, leaving behind only a fine ash.
I didn’t even have a moment to relish that victory before the second sprang at me from the right.
My song hitched in my throat, and I stumbled a step. But I refused to let panic swallow me—I pushed another lyric past my lips, feeling the dagger heat against my palm, as though it responded to my voice.
I slashed upward, the blade slicing into the creature’s gut. It staggered back, leaking its shadowy essence onto the floor, edges fraying as though it struggled to keep its shape.
Good, I thought, keep fading. You and what made you should die.
I spun just as the third Dissonant loomed up—so silently it felt like the air itself suffocated any sound. I barely managed to raise my dagger in time to block a set of spindly claws aiming for my face. The near miss left my heart battering my ribs like a wild thing.
Taking another breath, I let my melody surge again, each note fueling a surge of energy in my chest. It felt almost like lightning crackling under my ribcage. Every syllable steadied my limbs, sharpened my senses, pushing the throbbing pulse of life in me. My voice rose higher, the notes ringing through the ruined farmhouse, wrapping me in the faint glow of my own courage.
I dropped and spun, sweeping my leg low, aiming to take the dissonant’s legs out from under it.
From past fights, I knew my kick would pass right through its shadowy limbs if my song failed me. But as long as that melody pulsed from my throat, something changed—either in me or in them.
I never understood how it worked, and I didn’t particularly care at that moment, because the dissonant collapsed onto the worn boards with the sound of hissing steam.
My stomach churned with a mix of adrenaline and revulsion, but I rode the wave of momentum, driving my dagger straight through the void where one of its eyes should have been.
It dissolved into a puff of sticky ash, just as a set of clawed fingers raked the air behind my neck. I rolled away, heart hammering, lungs heaving, voice still trembling on the edge of my next note.
Pushing myself up on shaky legs, I faced the final creature. My pulse thundered in my ears, but the chant inside me refused to die. That half-sung battle cry still warmed my chest, lending a tremor of confidence to my grip on the dagger.
I flipped it, feinted one way, then darted forward and plunged the blade into the dissonant’s chest.
It flailed in soundless agony for a heartbeat, before dissolving into a cloud of inky dust that coated the floor at my feet.
For a moment, the only sound in the ruined farmhouse was my ragged breathing.
I stood there, panting, staring at the dark, grimy patches burned into the warped planks. My last note died on my lips, leaving a hollow ache in my ribcage and a stab of pain in my right side—apparently, trying to sing and fight at the same time gave me a stitch. Who knew?
A gust of wind rattled the broken walls and send shard of cold air through me.
I’d chased these three Dissonants from the place, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think they wouldn’t return.
They always returned.
They always found me.
But maybe, once I left, they would leave this place too.
Near the small fire, I found a spot blessedly free of ash and slumped down.
My muscles quivered from exhaustion, and I pressed my palm against my growling stomach. I hadn’t seen a decent meal in days; my trek north had taken me far from any settlements still clinging to life.
Drought shriveled the soil, crops withered where they stood.
This farmhouse wasn’t the only casualty; yesterday, I stumbled through a ghost of a village that reminded me too much of the crypt I’d woken up in a year ago. At least the crypt had stone walls instead of rotting boards.
I tossed a broken plank into the flame, watching it catch and flare. The warmth licked across my face, chasing away a fraction of the bitter chill settling into my bones.
Nights like these—when hunger gnawed and the cold burrowed under my skin—those were the deadliest. Not because of any monster lurking in the shadows, but because of the slow, relentless way they ate at my spirit.
Still, I let myself sag against the rough wall, grateful for even this small reprieve.
I’d survived.
Tonight, that would have to be enough.
Maybe tomorrow I’d find somewhere less forsaken, maybe even run into a friendly face - or at least a less-unfriendly one. I almost laughed at how naïve that sounded in my own head.
My breath fogged in the air as I whispered a halfhearted prayer to the Goddess, is she was listening—praying for warmth, for strength, for a little luck.
Then I closed my eyes, letting the fire’s crackle and the night’s soft sigh lull me, if not to peace, then at least to a place where I could pretend it waited just beyond the next sunrise.
