Chapter 20: The Choir Wears No Mouths
"When a relic is claimed, the bells do not ring. The bells are killed."
— Forbidden Litany of the Silent Flame
---
They left the Mirror-Tomb in silence.
The skies were dull, choked with ash.
No wind. No birds. No noise.
Only the occasional crack of shifting stone beneath their boots as they moved through the Hollowlands, side by side.
Veilbrand pulsed once on Vayren's back.
Tenebranth didn't pulse at all.
Not once since Lyra claimed it.
---
"You've barely spoken," he said after a while.
Lyra didn't look at him.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
"I said I'm fine."
She said it flat. No warmth. No annoyance.
Just… nothing.
The dagger on her hip gleamed faintly—its edge warping the air around it, as if reality itself was reluctant to be near her.
---
They reached the outer ridge before nightfall.
That's when Vayren felt it.
A shift.
A cold breath from nowhere.
A soundless hum beneath his skin.
Then he saw them.
Black robes.
Hollow eyes.
And faces where mouths should be—
Sewn shut.
---
Enemy Reveal: The Choir of Silence
Twelve figures.
Floating inches above the ground.
Each one radiating inverted Veyra—energy that didn't flow, but drained.
One raised a hand.
Veilbrand screamed in its sheath.
Tenebranth vibrated with pressure.
> "Back," Vayren hissed.
> "No," Lyra stepped forward. "Let them try."