The Silent Cliff

Raze stood there. Simply stood there, unmoving.

"You're not going to ask more about it?" Munk's eyes narrowed, his voice laced with curiosity.

Raze had questions—many, in fact. What he'd just heard shook the foundations of his understanding. But instead of asking, he simply muttered, "It's too early for me… and it would wound my pride as a Warden."

A quiet smile tugged at the corners of Munk's face. He said nothing, only offered a nod, and turned his gaze to the stream beyond. Raze, however, kept staring—caught in a silent reverie.

I have walked this land as a Warden for years… and yet I never even sensed the whisper of a place such as this.

His eyes drifted across the stream, where two figures stood at ease, almost as if the land itself had been waiting for their return.

Why must you know a part of my world that I do not?

From across the water, Atlas met Raze's gaze. A chill ran down his spine.

"Eugh, why is he lookin' at me like that?" he muttered under his breath.

Thud.

A soft rumble signaled movement. Ignaric stirred.

The young dragon's deep wine-colored scales shimmered beneath the dappled light as he dipped his snout into the stream. The sight was so serene, Raze found himself momentarily breathless.

"You should wash up." A hand fell lightly on his shoulder—Atlas. "Once we leave here, there'll be no haven until U-5. We need to make it before sundown. Best be quick."

Raze nodded, then turned to Ignaric, who lay lazily beside the stream. Running a hand over the young dragon's warm scales, he asked, "And what about him?"

"He'll be safe here," Atlas said with calm certainty. "Still too young to wander the Null. He'll wait."

With a flick of the wrist, Atlas sent his dagger gliding into the water. A moment later, the stream rippled crimson. A fish rose to the surface, its life spent. Atlas retrieved the blade with casual precision.

Raze caught the dagger as it was tossed to him, and hurled the fish toward Ignaric. The young dragon devoured it in one gulp, a satisfied grumble rising from his throat. Raze then tossed the blade back—Atlas caught it midair and sheathed it into the scabbard at his waist in a single motion.

Raze's eyes shifted toward Maya, who was curled atop Munk's broad shoulder, asleep like a kitten in the sun. "And her?" he asked, lowering his voice. "Why bring a child into this place?"

Atlas wrapped his shawl tighter, fastening the buckles on his sandals. He paused.

"Maya… is strong."

There was something in his voice—quiet, steady, and heavy with weight. Raze didn't understand it, not fully. But in that moment, he believed him.

"Plus she will turn 15 next month."

"The Academy huh?" enquired Raze. Atlas simply nodded.

Munk rose with a stretch, cracking his shoulders. "Alright. Are we all ready?"

With a sudden shrug, he dropped the sleeping Maya face-first onto the soft grass. She groaned but didn't complain.

A silent understanding passed between them. No one said "yes." They didn't need to.

One by one, the group readied themselves. Raze washed his face in the stream's cool water, filling a small flask of clay before strapping it to his belt. The others followed suit. Maya climbed atop the carriage affixed to Ignaric's side, securing a peacefully snoring Boink to her back. She gave Boink a few light taps—no response.

"Be good, alright?" she whispered, rubbing her forehead gently against Ignaric's. The creature returned the gesture, a low rumble of affection echoing from deep in his chest.

One by one, they offered their farewells to the young dragon with quiet pats and whispers of comfort.

And then they set off.

Munk led the charge, his colossal frame nearly blotting out the path ahead. Yet despite his mountainous form, he moved with the grace and speed of a stag, weaving through the trees as if the forest itself parted for him.

They jogged beneath a canopy of green, branches overhead intertwining like ancient fingers. Vines and leaves brushed their shoulders, but none hindered them. Each step was swift, each breath steady. And as they passed, the foliage seemed to hum with life—as if each leaf strummed the notes of an invisible harp.

Fifteen minutes passed without pause. Not a drop of sweat touched their brows.

And then—the forest thinned.

And suddenly… there were no more trees.

The world opened before them.

A vast expanse stretched into the horizon, painted in hues of gold and storm. With no woods to shield them, the wind struck—wild and fierce. It roared across the clearing like the breath of an ancient beast, crashing against them with the force of a wave breaking on stone.

They came to a halt.

The forest behind them folded away into shadow. At first, Raze could not grasp what he saw.

The land dropped away beneath their feet—not as a slope or a ledge, but a vast, sweeping curve of green and gold, descending in a slow, natural spiral. They stood upon the edge of a great crescent cliff, the grass at their boots grown long and wild, swaying like seaweed in the wind. The air smelled of stone and old rains.

Below them, at the heart of the basin, there lay a pond—small, round, and perfectly still. Its surface shone like polished glass, reflecting the light of the sky with the clarity of a mirror. Around it, grasses taller than men leaned in the wind like worshippers in prayer, their tips brushing the edges of the pond as though drawn to its quiet center.

Clouds passed low and slow through the open sky, trailing ribbons of white mist across the bowl-shaped cliffs that circled the hollow like ancient guardians.

It was a place untouched by time.

"It's beautiful," murmured Raze, though even he did not know to whom he spoke. He couldn't bear to the fact, that he had never seen a place like this, even after roaming the Null for so many years.

The others stood in silence beside him—Munk, great and immovable; Atlas, his shawl lifted in the wind; Maya, her hands resting on her hips. Even Boink was quiet, asleep against her back.

It felt wrong to move. To speak. As if any sound would break something sacred.

The wind suddenly blew even harder, harder then ever before, almost tossing Maya off her feet.

And then—

The wind ceased.

Not a slow dying down, not a breeze faltering—but a halt. Sudden and complete.

The grasses, mid-sway, stopped where they bent. The drifting clouds above them froze in place, hanging motionless like torn silk in the air. The silence deepened into something unnatural.

Munk shifted uneasily. Atlas's eyes narrowed.

"I do not like this," Atlas said softly.

Something stirred. Not in the grass. Not in the trees. But in the unseen—an awareness that pressed against their backs like a hand unseen.

Their feet remained still. Their breath caught in their throats. Even the smallest sound—a shifting boot, a drawn breath—felt too loud now. The moment was strung tight, as if the land itself were holding its breath.

Then came Maya's voice.

"Hey... what is that?"

She pointed upward, into the stillness above.

They followed her gaze.

There, above them, half-veiled by the halted cloud, was something impossible.

At first it was a pattern—lines and shadows caught in drifting mist. A trick of light, they thought. But the shapes did not shift with the wind. They remained.

Two pale, hollow orbs.

A long curve—a grin—that reached from cloud to cloud.

And then the clouds parted just enough.

A face.

Vast beyond reason. Silent. Smiling.

It gazed down upon them, not from above, but from within the sky itself—as though the heavens had bent to form a watcher. Its eyes, blank and soulless, bore no malice… but no mercy either. They were eyes that had seen everything and felt nothing. Its smile, impossibly wide, held the weightless, terrifying joy of a thing that did not understand fear, or pain, or time.

It was not the face of a god. Nor beast. Nor man.

It was something older.

Something that should not have been...here.

Atlas stepped back, slowly, his hand hovering near his blade.

"No…" he whispered, "No. This isn't right."

The wind did not return. The grasses did not move.

The face lingered.

And smiled.