He lay in the attic beside Two-Tap, staring at the exposed beams overhead while the silence stretched out like a second skin.
The visions from the Dreamwell looped through his head in flashes — the songs, the being, the silence that wasn't peace but pressure.
The memory of that thing forming in the song was unsettling. But even more so was the creeping realization that he had started to hear it again.
'It hears you now.'
Two-Tap's warning repeated in his mind, sharp and steady.
He'd thought silence was some kind of punishment. But It was a cage. One they built themselves.
'I guess it's technically still punishment.'
What kind of people do that? What kind of fear drives a whole town to throw away their voices just to survive?
Kael sat up, rubbing his eyes. Two-Tap was still asleep, hugging his notebook like a stuffed animal. Her breathing was soft. Real.
He slipped out without waking her.
The town was different that morning.
Not on the surface — people still moved in eerie, choreographed silence, pushing carts, sweeping steps, pretending things were fine. But beneath it all, something had changed.
The silence wasn't clean anymore.
It hummed.
It buzzed, faintly — like a wire stretched too tight. Kael felt it in his teeth. Like a whisper he couldn't quite hear, yet. It wasn't constant. Just enough to notice. Just enough to set his nerves on edge.
He passed by the fountain and saw a woman standing stock-still, hand suspended mid-air with a basket of apples. Her mouth was open — not wide, just slightly parted. Like she'd been about to speak.
Then stopped.
Kael watched her.
She didn't blink.
He moved on.
At the edge of the town, past the final row of houses, Kael found the field. He didn't remember seeing it before. It stretched long and flat, covered in flowers the color of blood and rust. The petals didn't sway with the breeze. They barely moved at all.
He stood there, trying to make sense of the growing itch beneath his skin — the feeling that something wanted in.
That's when he heard it.
"K̷a̷e̵l̴..."
A voice. Not loud. Not shouted.
Almost....Intimate.
He spun around, heart hammering, but the field was empty. The town was behind him, still frozen in its painted routine.
No one there.
No one.
He clenched his fists. Okay. Simulation or not, that wasn't in my head. That was real. Something just said my name.
He hadn't told anyone his name.
And no one is technically supposed to be able to speak.
...
Back in the attic, Two-Tap was awake, eyes wide and waiting. She scribbled frantically when she saw him return.
"It touched you."
Kael blinked. "What?"
She shook her head and drew a symbol again — the spiral. The being. Then she drew an arrow from it to him.
He sat beside her, slower this time. "I heard something. A voice. It said my name."
She didn't look surprised.
Instead, she flipped to a new page and began sketching. It took her longer this time. When she turned it around, Kael sucked in a breath.
It was him. Standing in a field. Surrounded by rust-colored flowers.
His mouth was open.
His shadow — not a copy of him, but something else — stretched out behind him, twisted and sharp, like a tree branch dipped in ink. And from that shadow, spirals bloomed.
Kael looked at her. "Is this a vision?"
She nodded.
He stood, running a hand through his hair.
He stared down at the girl. "We need to stop it."
She didn't respond right away.
Then, for the first time, she made a sound.
Barely a whisper — just a short, soft hum. Like a child humming to themselves while drawing. It slipped out like it didn't belong to her at all.
Kael froze.
So did she.
A beat passed. Then another.
And from somewhere beyond the town square — distant, but unmistakable — something screamed.
Not loud. Not angry.
Just aware.
If that made any sense.
Two-Tap's eyes filled with fear.
Kael whispered, "I think we just woke it up."
The scream faded slowly, like a siren being dragged beneath water. Not a sound of pain. Not a roar of rage. Just a notice.
Kael couldn't get the texture of it out of his ears — not because it was loud, but because it wasn't.
It wasn't just a sound. It was a shape. It curved.
Two-Tap wouldn't stop trembling.
They had broken the silence. And now, the silence was trying to break them back.
...
They didn't come right away.
The Collectors waited until dusk.
Yep, that's what he was calling them.
He had an idea of their nature: collectors, their name a clear indication of their purpose. They were likely manifestations of the spell the town had enacted, the ones who had stolen the voices of the people.
Now, with the sudden appearance of a speaking individual in their quiet town, they had returned to restore order.
Especially since he was attempting to share his voice.
But directly stealing his voice, as he wasn't part of the original ritual, was likely impossible. Their only remaining option: make him disappear.
Kael had taken Two-Tap to the abandoned house with the attic again. It was one of the few places where the stillness felt like quiet, not pressure. He stacked furniture by the door. It wouldn't do anything, not really, but it made him feel less helpless.
He couldn't stop thinking: I should've stayed quiet. I should've never let her hum. I'm dragging her into this.
But it wasn't just guilt. It was purpose now.
They needed to fight back. Or at least understand what they were up against.
Two-Tap wrote nothing. She just sat, curled against the wall, eyes locked on the shadows pooling in the corner of the room.
Kael turned to her. "When they come," he said quietly, "we don't run. We watch. Understand?"
She nodded, just once.