The sea roared like a beast in agony.
Lira Valenti clung to the smuggler's boat as it bucked and dipped under the weight of Solara's storm. Rain lashed her face, soaking her salt-stained dress. Her arm throbbed—runes flaring silver under her sleeve—while the parchment in her pocket burned like a second heartbeat, its runes humming with a trapped, ancient song.
Across the harbor, a black-sailed ship surged through the water, marked with a twisted star-in-circle—the seal of the Silent Council. And standing at the prow, eyes like her own, was the unmasked woman whose voice sliced through wind and wave:
"You can't run, sister."
Lira's heart faltered.
Sister?
The woman's face—those cheekbones, those storm-gray eyes—was hauntingly familiar. It wasn't just recognition. It was memory… warped. A shadow she couldn't name.
Elias cursed under his breath and rowed harder, veins taut, hair plastered to his skin. His sea-glass eyes locked on the enemy ship.
"They're gaining," he muttered.
At the stern, Veyra crouched low, curls dripping, her satchel clutched like a lifeline. "That relic I took…" she said, trembling. "It's why they're here. It's tied to you, Lira."
Lira wanted to scream. To ask a thousand questions.
But her voice was still shackled by silence.
The runes on her arm burned brighter.
The parchment pulsed hotter.
And across the gap, the woman stared as if she owned Lira's very soul.
Sister?
Relic?
What did you do to me?
A crossbow bolt whistled past, splintering the boat's hull. Elias shoved Lira down, shielding her with his body.
"Stay down!" he snapped, his warmth pressed against her, breath ragged. His voice steadied her—but she felt the tension in him, a coiled thread of fear… and guilt.
Another bolt sliced the air.
Veyra ducked and hissed, "That relic—it's a crystal. From the sixth nation. That's how they silenced you. That's how they bound your voice."
Lira's breath hitched.
So it was true.
Her muteness… a curse.
A choice.
A sacrifice.
She grabbed a splintered oar and etched a rune—a sharp star, trembling with fury.
The parchment lit up.
Silver light surged, forming a glowing barrier.
Bolts hit it and shattered.
Elias stared, eyes wide. "How do you do that?"
Lira didn't know.
But the energy was draining fast.
Veyra leaned closer. "That's Echowriting. Lost magic from the sixth nation. Stronger than the Accord. Stronger than song. They fear it."
A vision hit her like thunder:
Sand stretching to infinity.
Ruins under stars.
A woman who looked just like her… weaving runes of light, her silence singing through magic.
A voice whispered:
"The sixth nation fell to hide the truth."
Lira gasped.
The vision faded.
And the enemy ship rammed against them.
Grappling hooks bit into the wood.
Figures climbed aboard.
And then—her.
The unmasked woman landed with a graceful, lethal step.
Crimson cloak swirling.
Eyes burning.
"Sister," she said, voice soft as poison.
"You were my sacrifice."
Lira froze.
The word cut deeper than any blade.
Elias lunged, dagger raised—
But the woman flicked her hand.
Dark energy hit him like a hammer.
He slammed against the mast, blood blooming at his brow.
"Elias!" Lira moved to him—
But Veyra grabbed her.
"Don't! She'll kill you!"
The woman stepped closer, eyes fixed on Lira.
"The Silent Council needed a Voicekeeper silenced," she said. "I gave them you. My blood. My shadow. My sister."
Lira's vision blurred.
You cursed me. You silenced me. You betrayed me.
Her runes exploded with rage.
She scratched a jagged circle into the wood—
Light burst, knocking the woman back.
Waves surged. The boat rocked.
Veyra pulled something from her satchel.
A crystal.
Small, glowing. Etched with runes.
"This is what they used," she said. "To bind your voice."
Elias groaned and stood, swaying.
His eyes met the woman's.
And broke.
"Mira."
The name dropped like an anchor.
He knew her.
Lira's heart twisted.
Elias reached for her hand, and when their fingers met, it was a vow in silence.
But doubt tangled with trust.
On the enemy ship, a chant rose:
"Silence binds, silence breaks."
The relic glowed dark.
Tendrils of shadow reached for Lira, pulling at her runes—her soul.
Her throat tightened.
The curse returned.
Squeezing.
Crushing.
Veyra screamed and dropped the crystal.
Elias tackled Lira, shielding her as the storm cracked the sky.
Then—
"Enough!"
A new voice rang out—clear, commanding.
A figure dropped from the enemy ship's rigging.
Cloaked.
Staff in hand.
Eyes shining with ancient fire.
He pointed at Mira. Then at Lira.
"The Accord's truth isn't yours to steal."
Lira's runes ignited.
The parchment seared.
Mira hissed. "You."
The man smiled.
"Watch me."
But as he stepped forward, the crystal pulsed again—
And Lira heard it.
A whisper, inside her mind, cold as death:
"Your voice is ours."