She didn't ask permission; she simply placed the cool, smooth river stone against Saria's sternum, its etched script catching the soft blue light. "Gentle anchors." Her scarred fingers traced the flowing patterns on the stone. "Not binding. Not forcing. Just… holding space."
Saria flinched as a fresh wave of dissonant terror surged from the phantom echoes within her – remnants of the silence entity's violation. It felt like static tearing through her nerves, threatening to shred her connection to sound itself. But Mire's stone pulsed with a soft, deep warmth. It didn't silence the internal screams; instead, it created a quiet pocket *around* them, a buffer zone. Saria gasped, drawing in a shuddering breath that felt like her first real inhale since the archives.
"Focus here," Mire murmured, her thumb brushing the stone. "Not the noise inside. Not the silence that tried to swallow you. *Here*. The texture of the stone. The hum of the stabilizer behind you. The sound of Gamma breathing beside you." Her eyes, dark and calm, held Saria's gaze. "Can you feel it? The baseline hum of the world? It's still singing. Listen *past* the discord."
Gamma hadn't moved from her stool. Her hand remained firmly on Saria's ankle, a grounding weight. Her silver eyes were fixed on Saria's face, watching every flicker of pain, every tremor. The terrifying fury that had shattered the entity was gone, replaced by a hyper-focused vigilance. When Saria gasped, Gamma's grip tightened infinitesimally, a silent pulse of *I'm here*.
Slowly, laboriously, Saria obeyed Mire. She dragged her awareness away from the internal cacophony. The cool smoothness of the stone beneath her shirt. The low, rhythmic thrum of the neural stabilizer array Pasha was calibrating. The soft, steady *whoosh-click* of the environmental controls. And beneath it all, faint but undeniable, the deep, resonant hum of the guildhall's wards – Atrium's persistent background song. She focused on Gamma's breathing: a slow, deliberate inhale, a controlled exhale. It wasn't silent. It was *sound*. Solid. Present.
"Good," Mire breathed. "Now, the stone holds the discord. Let the world's hum wash over it. Don't fight the noise inside. Let it be held. Let the resonance outside… soothe it." She began to hum softly, a wordless melody that resonated perfectly with the stone's vibration, weaving into the ambient hum of the room.
The effect wasn't instant. It was like tuning a badly damaged instrument. Jagged bursts of phantom terror still stabbed through Saria's awareness, making her jerk. But each time, Mire's humming shifted subtly, the stone pulsed warmer, and Gamma's thumb began a slow, rhythmic circle on the back of Saria's hand – a new anchor point. Gradually, the dissonant spikes grew shorter, less violent. The phantom screams didn't vanish, but they were… contained. Muffled within the pocket of calm held by the stone and Mire's focused resonance. The crushing memory of the imposed silence receded, replaced by the tangible reality of sound returning.
After what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, Saria's trembling subsided. The pallor faded from her cheeks, replaced by a deep exhaustion. The bone-deep ache remained, a phantom bruise on her psyche, but the raw terror was banked. She blinked slowly, focusing on Gamma's face hovering close to hers. Gamma's silver eyes were pools of intense concern, her jaw clenched tight, the lines around her eyes etched deeper than usual.
"Better?" Gamma murmured, her voice a low rasp stripped of its usual command. Her thumb hadn't stopped its slow, rhythmic circle on the back of Saria's hand.
Saria nodded weakly. Words still felt lodged behind the memory of suffocating silence. Instead, she shifted her hand beneath Gamma's, turning her palm up. Her fingers curled instinctively, weakly, around Gamma's thumb. It wasn't a request; it was a silent plea for anchor.
Gamma froze for a fraction of a second, surprise flickering across her face. Then, without hesitation, she wrapped her entire hand around Saria's, engulfing it completely. Her grip wasn't tight or controlling; it was solid, warm, immovable. "Okay," Gamma breathed, the single syllable thick with emotion. "Okay, Sari. I'm right here."
The recovery was slow. The silence entity hadn't just attacked Saria's throat; it had assaulted her fundamental connection to resonance, the very thing that made her unique, even powerless. For days, she drifted in a fog of exhaustion punctuated by jarring spikes of phantom dissonance – echoes of the entity's violation that Mire's anchoring stone could only partially mute. Sounds were too loud or strangely distant. Conversations felt muffled, as if heard through thick glass. The vibrant hum of Atrium, the comforting buzz of the guildhall wards, the clatter of the armory – it all felt alien, threatening.
And through it all, Saria clung to Gamma.
It wasn't conscious, at first. It was pure, desperate instinct. Gamma was the fixed point in her shifting, unstable world. Gamma's presence was a shield against the lingering psychic chill. If Gamma left the room, even for a moment, Saria's breath would hitch, her eyes darting towards the door, a low thrum of panic vibrating beneath her skin until Gamma returned. She couldn't articulate the fear – the terror that the silence would return, that the entity's kin would find her vulnerable again – but she didn't need to. Gamma saw it.
Gamma adapted with startling speed. Her usual whirlwind intensity banked. Guildmaster duties were delegated ruthlessly to Juno and Pasha. Meetings were held at Saria's bedside in the medical annex, Gamma's chair pulled close, her free hand never leaving Saria's arm or shoulder as she issued crisp orders. When Saria slept, Gamma sat vigil, reading mission reports by the soft glow of a foxfire lamp, her posture alert, attuned to every shift in Saria's breathing.
One afternoon, as weak sunlight filtered through the high annex windows, Saria finally managed a hoarse whisper. "You… don't have to stay."
Gamma looked up from a scroll detailing spectral migrations in Sector 9. She set it aside instantly. "Where else would I be?" Her tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of the smoldering intensity or playful flirtation of before. It was simple, bedrock truth.
"But… the guild. The storms. The things only you can handle." Saria's voice scraped, still raw.
Gamma leaned forward, her silver gaze steady. "Juno handles storms. Pasha handles containment. Mire handles names. They're good. Better than I gave them credit for." She paused, her thumb resuming its gentle circle on Saria's wrist. "This?" Her gesture encompassed the quiet room, Saria's fragility. "*This* is something only *I* can handle. Because it's you."
Saria looked away, tears pricking her eyes. The vulnerability was terrifying. She'd spent years building walls of competence in her windowless rooms, proving her worth without power. Now, stripped bare, she felt exposed. Yet, clinging to Gamma felt like the only thing holding her together.
Later that day, Gamma helped Saria move from the medical slab to a padded chair by the window. The simple act of walking the few feet left Saria trembling and breathless. Gamma supported her weight effortlessly, her arm a solid band around Saria's waist. Once seated, Saria didn't let go of Gamma's hand. She gripped it tightly, her knuckles white, anchoring herself against the vertigo induced by the view of the bustling guildhall courtyard below.
Gamma didn't pull away. She pulled another chair impossibly close, their knees touching. She didn't resume her reports. She just sat, watching the courtyard with Saria, her presence a silent bulwark against the overwhelming sensory input. When Saria flinched at the sudden clang of a dropped salt canister far below, Gamma's hand tightened reflexively.
"Too much?" Gamma asked softly.
Saria shook her head, swallowing hard. "Just… loud." She leaned her head against Gamma's shoulder, the sturdy epaulet of her guildmaster's coat pressing into her temple. It was a solid thing, that shoulder. Unlaboured. Predictable. Gamma didn't flinch. She shifted slightly, letting Saria nestle closer, her arm settling firmly around her sister's back. The frantic energy of the archives was gone, replaced by a quiet, watchful stillness. Gamma didn't fill the silence with platitudes or promises; she simply existed as a barrier against the chaotic resonance Saria was still struggling to filter.