chapter 18

The Child Who Never Spoke

The wind that night was sharp.

Not cold—sharp.

Like it was slicing through reality itself.

Astrael couldn't sleep.

That dream of the Silence Seed hadn't left him.

Its image pulsed behind his eyes—

the child, stitched mouth, violet gaze, the ash trees burning…

And that unbearable silence.

---

He rose before dawn and found the tower's top room empty.

Lyra wasn't there.

Malrik's bed was undisturbed.

Only Calem lay snoring softly in the corner.

He climbed the final stair and stepped onto the roof.

The cracked Second Moon loomed large above him.

And then he heard it—

not a sound, but the absence of one.

A silence so complete…

it was deafening.

---

> "You're here," a voice said behind him.

Malrik.

Holding a faded scroll.

> "You need to see this," he said, unrolling it.

Drawn in charcoal:

the Silence Seed.

And beside the image, a single phrase in the Old Lunar Tongue:

"He remembers what even the Moons forgot."

---

> "Who was he?" Astrael asked.

Malrik's voice was quiet.

> "They tried to create a Moonborne who could contain time.

But he saw too much.

And he couldn't speak it without breaking the world."

> "So they silenced him?"

> "No. He silenced himself."

Astrael felt sick.

> "Why am I dreaming about him?"

Malrik looked at him slowly.

> "Because you're not dreaming."

> "You're remembering."

---

Meanwhile…

Lyra wandered deeper into the forest than she ever had.

And there, beneath the roots of a hollowed-out star-tree,

she found something she didn't expect:

A child.

Curled up.

Sleeping.

Wrapped in tattered lunar silk.

His skin shimmered like silver dust.

His eyes fluttered—violet.

But it was the mouth that made her knees buckle.

It was sewn shut.

Not with thread—

but with light.

---

She reached for her blade.

But her hand trembled.

> "It can't be," she whispered.

"He's only a myth."

The child stirred.

And when he looked at her—

Lyra gasped.

Because in his eyes…

was Astrael's reflection.

---

She picked him up, cradling him gently.

The forest grew still.

Not even the wind dared breathe.

> "Who are you?" she whispered.

And in the silence…

came a voice from behind her.

Not a child's.

Not human.

Something ancient.

> "He is the first.

And he is the last.

And he remembers you."

Lyra turned.

A hooded figure stepped from the shadows.

A woman.

Her face hidden, but her aura undeniable.

Moon Priestess.

One of the old ones—extinct since the Collapse.

---

> "You should not have found him," the Priestess said.

Lyra held the child closer.

> "He was abandoned."

> "He was protected," the Priestess snapped.

"From the world. And from himself."

> "Why is he connected to Astrael?"

The Priestess paused…

then stepped forward.

She reached out, one finger glowing faintly—

and touched the child's brow.

A wave of memories crashed into Lyra's mind.

Visions.

A temple torn apart.

Moons bleeding.

Twins screaming.

A boy…

and another boy…

torn from the same soul.

---

> "Astrael and the Seed," the Priestess whispered.

"One born of time.

The other of silence.

But they were never meant to meet again."

> "Why not?"

> "Because together…

they will break the world to remake it."

---

Back in the tower, Astrael stared at the sky.

He didn't know why…

…but tears had started to fall.

And the Second Moon cracked a little more.

---

To be continued…

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