Stealthmode

In a world where secrets weigh more than blood, cities are hidden behind eternal mist, and clocks measure more than just time…
A young archivist hears what no one else can hear.

Elion Grahm, an orphan without a title or fortune, works in the Department of Unknown Relics, where he catalogs objects forgotten by history. His life is silent, orderly, and empty… until he finds a blank page that cannot be read, but that whispers directly to his soul.

From that moment on, everything changes.

Invisible voices begin to haunt him. Clocks stop in his tracks. Shadows watch him from fogged-up mirrors. And an ancient power, forgotten by the Churches of the Veil, marks him as its new bearer.

The Way of the Deaf Spectator has awakened.

Now, Elion walks a forbidden path, surrounded by secret cults, gods murmuring in the abyss, and organizations that will do anything to stop his rise.

The Lord of the Whisper

The sky was pale and shivering. The fog hung low over the rooftops like a breath caught in the throat. Elion moved quickly, keeping his head down, the bandages tight around his palm.

The map was still in his coat pocket, damp from sweat.

The spiral drawn in red ink — or blood — marked an alley in the Southern District.

But after what happened the night before…

The Southern District was older than the rest of Brell. Its stone streets groaned underfoot. Rusted signs hung from cracked buildings, and wires curled like veins across the sky.

No merchants. No carriages. No city guards.

Only the low hum of silence, stretched too thin.

Elion followed the winding alleys until he reached a wall covered in markings — faint etchings of sealed mouths, eyeless faces, and crooked spirals.

Just a shallow spiral-shaped indentation.

He unwrapped the bandage from his palm.

The carved spiral in his skin shimmered faintly, responding.

It opened with a hiss of warm air and candle smoke.

The corridor beyond was narrow, lit by flickering green lanterns. The stone walls seemed to breathe with heat, as if something deep below pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

Several figures appeared from the shadows — hooded, silent, cloaked in grey and blue.

Until one stepped forward and lowered her hood.

A woman, no older than thirty, with short silver hair and golden eyes.

— We've been listening longer than you think.

Elion scanned the faces behind her. None of them looked surprised to see him.

The woman placed a hand on her chest.

— My name is Seren. We are the Silenced.

They entered a wide underground chamber — walls carved with countless spirals, some incomplete, some broken, some burning faintly with blue flame. At the center stood a long table. Upon it: objects.

A cracked horn. A mirrored mask. A vial of black water. A book with no title.

— A sanctuary. A vault. A grave.

— All the same when you've heard too much.

She touched the spiral on his palm.

— That mark… means you're no longer on the First Sequence.

— The Listener becomes something else now.

A voice answered from the shadows.

— Some who still listen… and others who have begun to speak.

A second figure stepped forward — tall, wrapped in red cloth, his face hidden behind a mask of stitched ears.

And from behind the mask, came a whisper:

— And once you speak… the Echo speaks back.

Chapter 15: The Silenced