Merial adjusted her protective goggles as she surveyed the desolate landscape before her. The Dead Zone extended for about half a mile in every direction, a perfect circle of lifelessness amid the otherwise lush forest. The ground was cracked and gray, devoid of any vegetation. Not even the most resilient weeds dared to grow here.
"Remember," Syrial's voice came from behind her, calm but firm, "verbal magic becomes unstable near the perimeter. If you feel any distortion in your runes, retreat immediately."
Merial nodded, though she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the reminder. She wasn't a first-year student anymore. She had been studying Dead Zones for three years now, even if this was only her second field expedition.
"I'll be careful," she replied, adjusting the book strapped to her side. The tome was her most prized possession, its pages filled with runes she had crafted and observations she had made throughout her studies at the University of Ny'theras. "The readings from the last expedition suggested that this Zone is stable. No expansion in the last fifty years."
Syrial, her mentor and one of the most respected researchers at the University, stepped beside her. The older Sylarei woman's face was marked with intricate runic patterns that shifted subtly with her emotions — a sign of her mastery over verbal magic.
"Stable doesn't mean safe," Syrial cautioned. "The rules of reality itself are... flexible in these places. That's why we're here, after all."
Merial couldn't argue with that. Dead Zones were one of the great mysteries of Inhevaen. Areas where magic simply didn't work — or worse, worked in unpredictable ways. Where the Dome's protection seemed thinner, allowing... something else to seep through.
"I'll take the eastern quadrant," Merial said, already mentally planning her approach. "The preliminary scans showed unusual energy patterns there."
Syrial nodded. "I'll cover the western edge. We'll meet back here in two hours. If you encounter anything unusual —"
"I'll signal immediately," Merial finished for her. "Three short pulses of blue light."
With a final nod, the two Sylarei separated, each heading toward their designated areas of study. Merial walked carefully along the perimeter of the Dead Zone, her trained eyes scanning for anomalies. The border between normal forest and Dead Zone was unnaturally sharp — as if someone had drawn a perfect circle with a compass and decreed that nothing would live within it.
As she approached the eastern quadrant, Merial felt the familiar tingling sensation that indicated proximity to a Dead Zone — a slight resistance in the air, as if reality itself was pushing back against her presence. She opened her book and traced a quick sequence of runes in the air with her finger. The symbols glowed briefly before fading, and Merial frowned at the results.
"Unusual indeed," she murmured to herself.
The energy patterns here were different from any Dead Zone she had studied before. Typically, these areas exhibited a complete absence of magical energy — hence their name. But this one... this one seemed to have energy flowing into it, as if it were a drain pulling magic from the surrounding area.
Merial carefully stepped across the boundary, entering the Dead Zone itself. The sensation was immediate and disorienting — like stepping into a room where the air had been partially removed. Her lungs felt heavier, her movements slightly sluggish. Most noticeably, the constant background hum of magic that all Sylarei were attuned to from birth suddenly went silent.
She knelt and placed her palm against the cracked earth, closing her eyes to focus her senses. There was something here, something beneath the surface. Not an absence, but a presence. Something that didn't belong.
Opening her eyes, Merial began to trace more complex runes in her book, recording her observations and measurements. The pages seemed to fill themselves as she worked, the book responding to her thoughts and intentions — one of the many enchantments that made it invaluable for field research.
She was so absorbed in her work that she almost missed it — a subtle shift in the air, a faint sound like distant whispers. Merial froze, her senses suddenly on high alert. She was not alone in the Dead Zone.
Slowly, carefully, she closed her book and rose to her feet, scanning her surroundings. The Dead Zone appeared empty, the same barren wasteland in all directions. But the whispers continued, growing slightly louder, as if approaching.
"Hello?" she called out, immediately regretting breaking the silence. Her voice sounded wrong here, flat and muffled.
The whispers stopped abruptly. Then, about twenty yards away, the ground began to move.
At first, Merial thought it was an earthquake — the cracked earth shifting and bulging upward. But as she watched in horrified fascination, the bulge took shape, forming a roughly humanoid figure composed of dirt, stone, and what looked like twisted roots. It rose to a height of nearly eight feet, its "head" turning toward her with agonizing slowness.
A Child of Silence.
Merial had read about these creatures, of course. Manifestations that sometimes appeared in Dead Zones, particularly older ones. But encountering one in person was entirely different from studying the dry academic descriptions. The thing before her radiated wrongness, as if it were an error in reality's fabric.
Where a face should be, there was only a smooth surface with a single vertical crack that slowly widened, revealing nothing but darkness within. From this makeshift mouth came the whispers again, now clearly audible:
"Sylarei... word-weaver... your runes have no power here..."
Merial's training kicked in. She took three steps backward, her fingers already tracing the emergency signal rune in the air. But before she could complete it, the creature moved with shocking speed, covering the distance between them in seconds.
A massive arm of stone and root swung toward her. Merial ducked, feeling the air displacement as the limb passed inches above her head. She rolled to the side, her book clutched protectively against her chest.
Verbal magic was unreliable in Dead Zones — every student knew that. But Merial hadn't spent three years studying these phenomena without developing contingencies. She opened her book to a specific page where a complex rune was already inscribed, waiting to be activated.
As the creature lumbered toward her again, Merial pressed her palm against the rune and spoke a single word:
"Aeris."
It wasn't verbal magic in the traditional sense. The word itself held no power. Rather, it was a trigger, a key to unlock the potential energy stored within the pre-inscribed rune. A workaround for the Dead Zone's dampening effect.
The rune glowed bright blue, then exploded outward in a powerful gust of wind that slammed into the Child of Silence. The creature staggered backward, its form partially disintegrating under the assault. Chunks of earth and stone fell away, revealing glimpses of something else beneath - something that gleamed like black glass.
Merial didn't wait to see more. She turned and ran toward the perimeter of the Dead Zone, her lungs burning in the thin air. Behind her, she could hear the creature reforming, the whispers growing angry and insistent.
Just as she reached the boundary, a root-like tendril erupted from the ground before her, blocking her path. Merial skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with it. More tendrils burst forth, surrounding her in a cage of twisted, unnatural growth.
The Child of Silence approached slowly now, its form fully reconstituted. The crack in its featureless "face" widened again.
"The Dome weakens... the song changes... the Bearer awakens..."
Merial's mind raced. The creature was speaking of the Dome — the invisible barrier that surrounded their world. And a Bearer? What Bearer?
No time to ponder. The tendrils were closing in, tightening their circle. Merial flipped frantically through her book, searching for another pre-inscribed rune that might help. She found one — a fire rune, designed to release stored thermal energy.
But before she could activate it, a blinding flash of light cut through the Dead Zone. The Child of Silence turned toward the new threat, its movements suddenly jerky and uncertain.
"Merial! Down!" Syrial's voice rang out.
Merial dropped to the ground immediately. Above her, a series of glowing white symbols shot through the air like arrows, striking the creature from multiple angles. Each impact caused part of its form to dissolve into dust.
The tendrils around Merial withered and retreated into the ground. She scrambled to her feet, seeing Syrial standing at the edge of the Dead Zone, her hands weaving complex patterns in the air. More runic symbols formed around her, ready to be launched.
"Run!" Syrial commanded.
This time, Merial didn't hesitate. She sprinted toward her mentor, crossing the boundary of the Dead Zone with relief flooding her system. The natural magic of the world rushed back into her awareness, like plunging into a cool stream after crossing a desert.
Behind her, the Child of Silence let out a sound that was not quite a roar and not quite a scream — a discordant noise that seemed to vibrate at a frequency just wrong enough to make Merial's teeth ache. It lurched toward the boundary but stopped abruptly at the edge, as if unable or unwilling to cross.
Syrial grabbed Merial's arm, pulling her further away from the Dead Zone. "Are you hurt?"
Merial shook her head, still catching her breath. "No. Just... startled. It spoke to me, Syrial. It said something about the Dome weakening and... a Bearer awakening."
Syrial's expression shifted, the runes on her face momentarily forming patterns that Merial had never seen before — combinations that suggested alarm, recognition, and something else... fear?
"We need to return to the University immediately," Syrial said, her voice tight. "The Council must be informed."
"But our research — we've barely begun to —"
"Is concluded for now," Syrial cut her off firmly. "What you encountered is far more significant than you realize, Merial. And far more dangerous."
Merial looked back at the Dead Zone. The Child of Silence still stood at its edge, its featureless face turned toward them. Though it had no eyes, she could feel it watching them. Studying them.
"What did it mean?" she asked quietly. "About the Bearer?"
Syrial was already packing her equipment with quick, efficient movements. "That's not for me to explain. The Council will decide what you need to know."
The dismissal stung. After three years as Syrial's apprentice, after all her dedicated study, she was still being treated like a novice, kept in the dark about matters that clearly involved her field of research.
"I encountered it. I heard its words directly," Merial pressed. "Doesn't that give me some right to understand their meaning?"
Syrial paused, her expression softening slightly. "Knowledge is not always a right, Merial. Sometimes it's a burden. Sometimes it's a danger." She sighed, glancing back at the Dead Zone where the creature still watched them. "But you're right that you deserve some explanation. I'll tell you what I can on our journey back."
As they gathered their remaining equipment and began the trek back through the forest, Merial couldn't shake the memory of the creature's words, nor the strange gleam of black glass she had glimpsed beneath its earthen exterior. Something was happening — something significant enough to alarm even Syrial.
And somehow, Merial suspected that her carefully planned academic career was about to take a very unexpected turn.
In the Dead Zone behind them, the Child of Silence finally turned away from the boundary, sinking slowly back into the cracked earth from which it had emerged. But the whispers lingered in the air, carrying a message that neither Sylarei could hear from their distance:
"The Dome fractures... the silence ends... the three shall meet where shadows fall..."