chapter 18. Stone and Abyss

The child's cry from the cart pierced the silence of the night with a thin, icy needle. For Gray, whose senses were heightened to the limit, it was louder than the hum of Vivan's machine. It was the sound of pure, animal terror, unfamiliar with the betrayal and pain he had already experienced.

Something inside him broke. All his own fear and caution vanished, swept away by a single thought: A child. In a cage.

He didn't think. He was acting on instinct.

His hand clenched the anchor-stone in his pocket, and he dived back into the silence. This time, the movement was more precise, more rapid, but also more painful. He felt his consciousness tearing away from his body, his own self ready to dissolve into this artificial void.

He didn't completely extinguish himself. He did what his father had said to do—he muted himself. He became a shadow sliding along the wall, a barely perceptible ripple in the air.

The guards at the wagon, busy with unloading, didn't notice anything. They were pulling out a small, sturdy box with a latticework door. From inside came those same muffled sobs.

Gray moved along the wall, using every crevice, every pile of crates, as a hiding place. His target wasn't Vivian's car. His target was this carriage.

Just twenty steps.

Fifteen.

Ten.

He was so close he could see the lock on the drawer's door. He could see its grille shaking from the little fists inside.

And then his eyes fell on the man holding the box. Not the guard. The colorist in the lab coat, checking something on the slate. His face was young, tired, and... familiar. It was the same young man who had flicked a spell at the perimeter. The one whose mistake had given Gray a chance.

Their eyes met.

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The colorist's eyes widened in confusion. He saw not a man, but a void, a moving patch of non-existence that distorted the light behind itself. His hand instinctively reached for the whistle on his chest.

Gray had no time. He couldn't let him raise the alarm.

He did the only thing he could. He tore off the veil of silence.

An explosion of sensation.

The sound, the light, the hum—all of it crashed down on him and the colorist at the same time. The young man gasped, blinded by the sudden return of the world, and staggered back.

— Stop! Someone from the guards shouted, finally noticing the figure that appeared out of nowhere.

But it was too late. Gray, still stunned, rushed forward. He couldn't see anything but the box. His fingers gripped the bars.

"Let go!" "Stop it!" a voice roared above him, and a heavy iron—gloved hand landed hard on his shoulder.

At that moment, a calm, chilling voice came from the main entrance of the observatory:

"What is going on here?"

Everyone froze. The guards stood at attention. Gray, still holding onto the bars, slowly raised his head.

Master Vivan stood on the threshold. He removed his gloves. His gaze swept over the terrified colorist, the guards, and finally settled on Gray. There was no anger or surprise in his eyes. There was curiosity. A cold, analytical curiosity, like a scientist examining a rare specimen of an insect.

"Well, well," he said quietly. "Who do we have here? Is the source of the interference at our doorstep?"

His gaze fell on Gray's hand, still clenched in his fist, from which protruded a leather cord with a stone.

— I even brought a sample with me. How sweet.

Gray tried to pull away, but the guard's grip was iron. He was trapped. He saw Vivan take a few steps forward, his eyes burning with a strange, hungry interest.

"Don't be afraid, boy," Vivan said, and his voice was soft, almost paternal, which sounded terribly unnatural. "You don't understand what you mean." You're not a threat. You're... the solution. The key to purifying this world.

He held out his hand, not to Gray, but to the box. He ran his finger along the bars, and inside's crying subsided for a moment, replaced by a terrified silence.

"Do you see?" Vivan continued, looking at Gray. — Instability. Noise. Chaos. But this is just a child. Imagine the noise coming from an entire city. From the whole world. But you..." his eyes lit up. "You can fix this." We can fix this together.

Gray stared at him, unable to say a word. It wasn't the villain he saw. He saw the worst thing that could be—an idealist, absolutely convinced of his own rightness.

And he knew that he was in the wolf's mouth. And that his only chance was the very silence that had brought him here. The silence that was now his prison.