Story 1197: The Silence Devours

At first, they thought it was peace.

After the Veil tore, after the King That Wasn’t uttered his curse, the howling stopped. The skies quieted. The streets stilled. No wind stirred. No bird cried. Not even the flickering gaslights dared hum.

Dreadmoor stood in perfect, suffocating silence.

Evelyn Blackmoor emerged from the ruins of the cathedral, her breath a faint cloud in the unnatural stillness. The air felt thick—like standing underwater. Each step echoed not with sound, but with memory, as though the city itself now remembered everything ever spoken, then buried it in stillness.

She called for Jasper. For Clara. For Madame Grin.

Her voice did not leave her mouth.

It died in her throat.

Clara Veil wandered the abandoned market square, her shadow split in three directions. She tried to hum—an old lullaby from her mother—but the tune unraveled in her mind before reaching her lips.

She held her lantern tight. The flame pulsed in silence.