average human’s Reviews > One Small Echo > Status Update

Monsters only promise what they can give. You offered nothing, which means you have nothing to offer.
We can help each other, he pleaded. I’ll give you everything I have.
You have nothing, she insisted.
Help me anyway.
If it was a trick, it was a good one. Because after all this time, buried deep inside, Eiko would always be that little fool running into the dark.
Fine, she said. I’ll help you.
She had never understood why they called it Silencing. She didn’t understand until she opened herself to the trembling little monster, and silence filled her in a great, deafening flood. She couldn’t hear the screaming, the yelling, the sounds of bodies hitting the ground, of bodies dragged across bones, of bodies jolting and writhing in pain, of live bodies scrambling over piles of dead bodies.
There was only her body: a vessel of light quickly filling with darkness. It was cool and soft and sweet, the edges still trembling. It was also vast. Shockingly so. It filled her to the seams of her skin before shrinking into something small, fluttery, and velvety, like a ribbon. It turned outside, wrapping her skin in gratitude, and then it slithered between her fingers. Pulling tight, it helped her to her feet, and pulled her forward, but she resisted, bending over Ky and trying to lift him.
With the little monster now settled in her mind, she could feel that she was a part of the Quiet. No longer an intruder or an empty vessel to latch onto.
We need to hurry, the monster urged, still fearful. She could feel him slithering around her fingers, lightly lifting her arm, hesitantly trying to urge her on. They’ll realise where I’m hiding. They’ll attack us both.
“I won’t leave Ky,” she said, doubling down stubbornly and shaking her friend until he swatted her hands away and scrambled up.
“We need to get out of here,” Ky said, voice shaken but full of strength. “Sun above, I’ve fucked up, Eiko.”
She didn’t question him; she just ran with him, following her monster’s gentle guidance as he tugged her fingers. It took her a moment to realise she wasn’t so much leading Ky as he was simply running in the same direction as her.
Because he was also being guided.
He had Silenced a monster of his own.
“What did it promise you?” she asked, wondering what could have possibly swayed him into such a risk.
“What did yours promise you?” he huffed back without answering.
She could hear the faintest sound of other booted feet moving in the same direction as them. Following them, possibly.
“Nothing,” Eiko snorted. “I think it’s a baby. It just wanted to escape the Quiet. It’s probably a trick, and as soon as we get back to the light, it’ll tear through me to escape.”
“Sounds promising.” Ky snorted, but he didn’t really sound amused. He sounded like he was running on fumes, fuelled by fear and adrenaline, hanging on by his fingertips. “What happened to Ren?”
Hurry, the monster urged. We’re almost there.
She kept her answer short. “He ran this way.”
“He left us?”
Something pricked against her vision, and for the first time in a long time, she found herself squinting, trying to focus.
Stupid, she scolded herself. You’re imagining things.
But she wasn’t. There were blurry pinpricks in the distance. Almost shapes. Almost colours. Almost light. Instinctively, she ran towards them, reminded of the starry specks that had guided her from the cave she had dragged Prince Chasin from ten years ago.
She knew the moment she escaped the Quiet, and not because the gentle tug against her fingers ceased. Or because Ky stopped running. Or even because the eerie, heavy, held silence no longer swirled around her, searching and seeking for empty vessels to pour into.
It was because her vision was full of light. Sudden and blinding—and just as quickly fading. She couldn’t actually make out anything. Just blurry forms, a few sloppy colours, and the fading brightness.
I can see, she whispered into her mind, but it’s all … wrong.
What do you mean? the monster asked, sounding confused. And then, before she could reply, he seemed to answer his own question. It’s my second sight.
Why is everything so blurry? she asked despairingly, completely overwhelmed, the effort to try and bring the world into focus making her head ache.
Stop trying to form the colours. My second sight isn’t like the first sight of humans. My colours tell the truth. You can’t force them to say anything but the truth.
Her heart was beating a frantic, unbearable rhythm, hope threatening to poison her with a happiness she might never recover from.
She could see.
Sort of.
Maybe?
She stopped trying to make sense of the colours and shapes and stood still, clutching Ky’s arm, as his face slowly came into focus. Ky. Her Ky. He was no longer ten years old.
He was … tall and gangly. The buttery fabric of his lordly clothes had been torn, the sleeves covered in blood and dirt, a scratch across his chest still open and weeping, parting the velvety material of his shirt. His eyes were a smouldering coal, wide and confused, flicking between hers. His skin was a light clay, his lashes sooty, his lips like the gems they mined. He was every colour of the mountain that had rejected him. He would carry it on his skin, in his countenance, every day of his life.
“You’re looking right at me,” he whispered, his eyes widening.
This wasn’t how she remembered the world. There were colours that came out of his mouth. A wisp of lilting yellow, soft and full of wonder, but tinged with the shivering orange of fear and shock.
The truth, her little monster whispered. He sounded tired. We can’t use this power for long.
The truth. She wasn’t just seeing her friend. She was seeing his feelings.
“Light above,” she spluttered, as the world began to dim again.
It wasn’t until the vision began to fade that she realised she had been seeing far too many details all at once. As the colours, textures, and nuances began to soften, she began to recognise what the world looked like. It wasn’t quite so bright, quite so coloured, quite so textured and sharp.
She would have loved it to settle there, but it didn’t. It continued to fade. It faded back into blurry shapes and haloes of light, and then into complete darkness again.
We’ll do better next time, the little monster promised mournfully, the words ending on a yawn.
“Eiko?” Ky’s hands gripped her shoulders, concern in his voice. “What the hell just happened?”
Don’t tell anyone, the monster warned.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I … this is a lot to take in.”
“It’s not trying to tear you apart? It’s really just a baby?”
“I think so. I … I need to go back in there. For Rion and Kaito.”
“No need,” Kaito panted, from a few feet away.
She was so shocked that she accidentally activated her monster’s ability again, sharpening the world into painful, colourful focus.
Kaito looked just like the portrait of her father. Tall and broad-shouldered, with messy black hair, a squared, stubble-covered jaw, and eyes crinkled at the edges by laugh lines. He was carrying Rion, who curled against his chest, her long, auburn hair flowing over his arm, so long it almost tickled the ground.
Eiko had known the details of her friend’s appearance, but nothing could have prepared her for the vision that Rion was, with skin a shade paler than was common for the stoneborn, and eyes like the sunrise all of Stonesigh worshipped each morning.
It was such a brief flash of an image, snatched away so quickly that it felt like a hallucination, before Eiko’s vision faded again.
She was blind again.
“Are you okay?” she asked, as Kaito joined them.
“We’re fine.” Kaito’s voice was tight. “But …”
“They Silenced.” The voice belonged to Kira, whom Eiko had not had time to notice trailing Kaito. She didn’t stop with their group but stomped right past, her footfalls uneven, like she was limping. “We were stuck inside a crush of people on the train, and suddenly this idiot makes a deal that if we’re protected and led out of the Quiet, she’ll agree to a Silencing.”
Since there was only one other she, Eiko had to assume that Rion was the idiot.
“Let’s not discuss it here,” Kaito clipped out quietly. “That’s a fucking prince walking towards us.”
Little monster? Eiko called out inside her mind, worried at how quiet he had been. Are you there?
I’m here.
Do you have a name?
Hymndrake, but you can call me Hymn. He sounded happy but weak, before a tremble of fear sank into his intonation. He’s coming.
“Which prince?” she asked aloud, worrying over the fear she could feel from Hymn.
“Prince Chasin,” Ky whispered. “And he looks pissed. Why does he look pissed?”

21%

Eiko had no time to prepare. One second, she was being warned about the prince, and the next second, there was something wrapped around her throat.
She was pretty sure it was a hand.
She was too shocked to react.
Her friends were too shocked to react.
Hymn burrowed into her chest, hiding away and whimpering.
There was a large man in front of her.
He was choking her.
She was pretty sure it was the prince.
Except he wasn’t choking her, not really. He was just gripping her tightly … wordlessly. His grip felt cool and leathery, the slight creaking as he infinitesimally tightened his grip telling her he was wearing gloves. She tried to draw on Hymn’s ability again but was only met with darkness.
It’s our ability now, Hymn whispered.
Okay, the correction is so not helpful right at this moment.
Sorry, master.
Nope. We’re not doing that.
Can I call you Eiko? His fluttery little spark of excitement briefly stirred in her chest.
Sure, she said. If you stop talking, so I can concentrate on being choked out by the prince.
Prince Chasin still hadn’t uttered a word, not even a grunt or a huff to give away his emotion or intention. He was standing so close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, could feel how big he was compared to her, and the little shiver of power that seemed to fill the bare space between them, like a breeze getting sucked down into a chasm.
“Chasin?” Light, hurried footsteps rushed over, the female voice carrying a honeyed Goldmoor accent. She didn’t question the prince further, but it was clear from the one word she had spoken that this was not normal or expected behaviour.
The confusion and alarm searing Eiko from the fixed, silent stares of everyone around her only fuelled her own internal panic.
Chasin leaned closer, and she could feel the warmth of his choppy breath against her temple, stirring a stray tangle of hair across her nose. She wrinkled it, trying not to sneeze in his face.
He smelled like … she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it wasn’t pleasant, and it felt almost supernatural, as though his monster was so strong, it overpowered everything normal and human about him.
Death, she eventually realised, as he lifted one finger.
The youngest prince—the one who had screamed so horribly all those years ago in the cave—he smelled like death, now.
He lifted another finger. Slowly, achingly, still completely silent.
It wasn’t a decomposing death, or even the musty, soil-rich scent of a coffin. It was an entirely inhuman flavour. His brand of death was silence and obscurity, a vastness like what she had felt when Hymn filled her, before he shrank into the little ribbon that she could feel trembling around her heart, shirking away from Prince Chasin. It was a death of darkness, and somehow that had a scent. Heady and smoky, with a hint of something salty against the back of the tongue. Sweat and tears. It definitely wasn’t agreeable, and it was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She had a feeling she would be remembering that exact scent in a future nightmare—possibly every future nightmare she was cursed with for the rest of her life.
He lifted another finger and then unclasped her throat and slowly stepped away from her.
He has a need to kill, Hymn whispered. It screams from him.
Say what now? she shot back in alarm.
Kaito spoke up before Hymn could respond to her, his voice cracking with nervous energy. “Uh, Eiko, Prince Chasin is … signalling something to you.”
“Commander,” the woman interrupted sharply. “All recruits will refer to Prince Chasin as Commander, as that is what he is to you, now.”
Why was everyone speaking for him?
His throat is scarred, Hymn told her. The scars are thick and deep, and they dip below his shirt. I don’t think he can speak.
But he’s the commander of the Godsguard, she returned in a panic, too overwhelmed to deal with her sudden and competing realisations. And I’m … Silenced. So … I’m a recruit. And … if he can’t speak and I can’t see⁠—
She cut off her rambling, realising something else.
The woman had spoken to Kaito.
Kaito had also Silenced a monster.
So, they were all …
“You may go,” the woman said, “join the other non-recruits on the train.”
“I’ll … uh … good luck,” Kira whispered, hurrying off.
Everyone else stayed.
“The rest of you better hurry the fuck up and figure out what the commander told you to do, or you won’t last very long,” the woman scoffed, the soft and honeyed quality to her voice making way for a hint of derision.
What the fuck?
She and Prince Chasin walked away without another word. One set of footsteps was almost lethally silent—more silent than Eiko or any of her friends could manage—the other lithe and light, like a dancer.
“W-what did he say?” Eiko choked out. “With his … uh, hands?”
“I have no fucking clue,” Ky growled, the anger in his tone surprising Eiko until another set of footsteps approached, followed by the sound of a fist meeting flesh. “You asshole,” Ky snapped, as Kaito and Rion both made sounds of shock. “You left us to die in there.”
Ren.
“I’m sorry.” Ren spoke low, the words rasped out in pain. “My monster … he … he was tearing me apart.”
His monster. So they had all caved. All of them except Kira. And the stoneborn were supposed to be the stubborn, immovable people. Kira had been stronger than them all.
“We need to focus,” Eiko said, cutting through whatever angry retort Ky was mustering. “It sounds like only the non-recruits get to go back on the train. Did the group from Oakensnare make it?”
“Only three of them,” Kaito replied. “They’re talking to the commander.”
“Talking to him?” she questioned. “They understand the hand signals?”
“They’re doing them right back to him. They must have studied his language, knowing they’d make it through the Quiet. Cocky fucking bastards. There are a bunch of Goldmoor soldiers here, but they’re all armoured up in gold, so they must be part of the Godsguard. The others—including the woman who was just here—are talking to the people who made it out of the Quiet, directing them onto the train or telling them whatever the commander just told us.”
“Let’s just follow the Oakensnare group,” Rion said weakly. “They started walking.”
Eiko groaned, setting her cane shakily against the ground. “They’re gonna make us walk all the way back to Goldmoor, aren’t they?”
Rion let out a short breath of pain. “Probably.”
“Are you okay?” Eiko turned towards the sound of Rion’s voice. “Why can’t you walk?” She assumed her brother was still carrying her friend.
“Just some mild paralysis,” Rion said dryly. “Nothing to write home about. Which I can do now, by the way. Write home. Because we survived!”
“For now,” Ren grunted. They moved slowly, towards the sound of the train vibrating to life. “I don’t know about you guys, but my monster is already testing the limits of my mind.”
“I’ve come to an agreement with mine,” Ky said stiffly. “And Eiko Silenced a dark-be-damned, bloody baby, so …”
“What?” Kaito and Rion barked at the same time.
I’m not a baby, Hymn protested, unfurling from his tight wrap around Eiko’s heart and winding down her arm to tangle with her fingers. I’m almost a hundred.
“He’s almost a hundred,” she told the others.
Ky scoffed. “Mine said that means he’s a baby.”
“Did yours try to call you master?” Eiko asked. “I don’t think Hymn is super experienced with the whole Silencing thing.”
It’s my first time, Hymn admitted sheepishly.
The others spluttered out shocked and bewildered sounds.
“Master my ass. Mine is still trying to pry me open and leave me in a bloody mess on the ground,” Ren said, before adding, “Only you, Eiko.”
“You really bonded a bloody baby?” Kaito barked a laugh. “Of course you did.” He sounded like he was shaking his head. “Mine is still refusing to use my name. Keeps calling me a pitiful human.”
“Mine is ignoring me,” Rion said softly. “She thought she could overpower me easily. She’s angry that she couldn’t. She’s punishing me by causing me so much nerve pain in my arms and legs that I can hardly move.” Rion barely sounded like she was in pain. But that was Rion; she would keep it inside as much as possible so as not to burden anyone else. “Are you sure I’m not too heavy?” she added lowly.
“Quit asking,” Kaito grunted.
Beside them, the train chuffed a heavy hissing of steam into the air, sluggishly beginning to chug along the tracks.
“How many non-recruits survived?” Eiko asked. “They aren’t going to wait to see if anyone else comes out?”
“About seven, I think,” Kaito replied. “But half of them were carried on by the others. They were probably dead. I guess we’ve reached the limit for how long you can realistically survive inside the Quiet.”
“And how many recruits?” Eiko asked.
“Three of the Oakensnare group, including the one Cairn tried to refuse entry to the Kingsweep—he doesn’t even look injured, but the other two are pretty fucked up. I guess they lost the woman they were with. There’s a guy. I think he’s from Suntide or maybe Goldmoor. He has that sun-blessed look about him, but he seems pretty tough. He’s writing shit in a little notebook … Ah … I think he’s actually taking notes on us.”
Eiko sighed. “That’s not creepy at all.”
“There’s another guy, a bit further back,” Kaito added, sounding like he was craning his neck. “He’s massive, has that oaken skin you see in Ironglade. Um, yeah, and he’s staring at us too.”
“Because we’re the largest group who made it out,” Rion explained. “Other than the three guys from Oakensnare, everyone else is alone.”
“Everyone is a strong word,” Ren mumbled. “It’s just us, the Oakensnare lads; the two massive, creepy dudes; and the weird girl.”
Eiko tripped over a rock, but Ky was right there, so fast that he must have been watching and waiting for her to fall. “What weird girl?” she asked, marching onward with a very boisterous level of forced, performative energy. In truth, she was running on fumes and pure, undiluted denial.
She wasn’t walking to Goldmoor with a monster.
Her monster wasn’t a bloody baby.
She was fine, everything was fine.