CHAPTER 4: THE ROOTS OF SUSPICION
POV: Jin Mori , Damien Veridian , Sung Ji-Hoo
The return journey to Silver Spire was made in heavy silence.
The proctors had taken charge of the hollowed—now weeping—villagers of Haven's Fall, loading them into a separate wagon. They would be taken to a "sanatorium" in the lowlands, the lead proctor explained without meeting anyone's eyes. For their own good.
Jin didn't believe it. He sat in the supply wagon with Ara, his arm around her shoulders. She hadn't spoken since throwing the rock. She just stared at her hands as if they belonged to someone else.
"You saved us," Jin said softly.
She shook her head. "I just interrupted him. He was… showing them something. A quiet place. They wanted to go."
"What do you mean?"
"I could feel it," she whispered. "Not with my ears. With… this." She touched her chest. "He was offering them a place with no missing children, no failed crops, no aching bones. A place where nothing hurts because nothing wants anything. And they were saying yes."
Jin felt cold. "That's not peace, Ara. That's just… nothing."
"Is there a difference?" she asked, and the question was so weary it broke his heart.
Up ahead, riding beside the lead proctor, Damien Veridian was speaking in low, urgent tones. Jin caught fragments: "—not in the seasonal migration patterns—", "—localized consensus formation suggests a focal point—", "—need to scan the Whisperwood ley lines—"
The proctor's responses were curt, dismissive. "Your report has been noted, Veridian. The academy will investigate."
Damien's jaw tightened, but he fell silent. Jin saw his fingers tap a rapid, frustrated rhythm against his saddle. The calculator had run his numbers and wasn't being heard.
Ji-Hoo rode in the medical wagon with the few villagers who had physical injuries from collapsing when the Stillness released them. From where Jin sat, he could see the healer's head bowed, his shoulders shaking occasionally. Not from tears—from exhaustion or something worse. The demon, perhaps, having its say.
Back at Silver Spire, the difference was immediate.
The gleaming white towers didn't look like a place of learning anymore. They looked like teeth.
They were processed through the gates under the watchful eyes of double the usual guards. Their gear was taken. Their focus crystals were scanned by a senior proctor with a device that made Jin's skin prickle.
"Resonance contamination screening," the proctor said tonelessly as Jin's crystal glowed under the beam. It flickered with faint grey shadows before clearing. "Minimal exposure. You'll be monitored for three days. Report any… emotional flattening, loss of motivation, or auditory hallucinations of silence."
Jin exchanged a look with Lyra, who looked more scared than he'd ever seen her. Even Rook's usual unflappable calm was cracked, his eyes darting toward every shadow.
Damien submitted to the scan without comment. His crystal came back clean. Too clean, Jin thought. Like it had been scrubbed.
Ji-Hoo's scan made the device hum alarmingly. The proctor frowned. "Parasitic resonance interference. Report to the Healing Hall for decontamination and isolation. Immediately."
"Wait," Jin started, but Ji-Hoo just shook his head, giving him a tired, resigned look before being led away by two medical proctors.
Ara was scanned last. Her pale crystal glowed with a soft, silver light that made the proctor blink. "Unusual frequency," he muttered, making a note. "But no contamination. Dismissed."
As they were finally released into the main courtyard, Damien caught up to Jin.
"We need to talk," Damien said, his voice low.
"About what? How you knew something like that was out there?"
"About how it shouldn't have been there yet." Damien's grey eyes were intense. "The timeline is accelerated. By at least eighteen months. My calculations are off."
"Your calculations," Jin repeated, the anger he'd been holding back since the village finally surfacing. "You talk about numbers while people get hollowed out. What are you, Veridian? Some kind of prophet?"
Damien's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—something that looked almost like pain. "I'm someone who's read the last page of the book, Mori. And it's blank. Everyone dies, or worse, becomes nothing. I'm trying to rewrite the ending."
"By using people as your variables?"
"By optimizing survival!" For the first time, Damien's calm cracked, his voice rising a fraction before he controlled it. "That village was a data point. The Stillness is spreading faster than projected. The academy is either ignorant or complicit. We need to—"
"Headmaster's office. Now."
They turned. Senior Proctor Krane, a mountain of a man with a face like carved granite, stood behind them. "Veridian. Mori. The Headmaster wants a debrief."
Headmaster Orin's office was a study in controlled power. One wall was all glass, overlooking the academy grounds. The others were lined with books and artifacts behind warded glass. The Headmaster himself sat behind a vast, darkwood desk, steepling his fingers.
"Report on Haven's Fall," he said, without preamble.
Damien gave a concise, clinical summary: the hollowed villagers, the grey man, the Stillness wave, their counterattack. He left out Ara's role. Jin noted that.
When Damien finished, the Headmaster turned his gaze to Jin. "And your assessment, Mori?"
Jin hesitated. "It wasn't a monster attack, sir. It was… an infection. The villagers weren't attacked. They were… convinced."
"By?"
"By the promise of an end to suffering," Jin said, the words feeling inadequate.
The Headmaster was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed, a sound of genuine weariness. "You have encountered a Bloom of Stillness. It is a rare phenomenon where the ambient negativity of a place—grief, despair, poverty—coalesces into a semi-sentient resonance field. It offers oblivion. Most Bloons are small, dissipate on their own. This one was… unusually advanced."
"And the academy knew about these?" Damien's question was sharp.
"The Silent Wastes are full of them. They are a natural hazard, like a swamp or a lightning storm." The Headmaster fixed Damien with a piercing look. "Your family's lands border the Wastes, Veridian. You should be familiar with the concept."
Damien's mask didn't slip, but Jin saw his fingers twitch. "Of course. I was unaware they could form this far into settled territory."
"The world is changing," the Headmaster said heavily. "The Great Divide grows restless. The Stillness spreads. This is why we forge shields here. Why we need strong, clear-minded resonants like you two." He stood up, signaling the audience was over. "Your squad performed adequately. You saved lives. But do not let this incident breed conspiracy theories. The world is strange enough without inventing shadows. Dismissed."
Outside the office, in the marble hallway, Jin turned to Damien. "He's lying."
"Obviously," Damien said, already walking. "But the lie is informative. He confirmed the Stillness is spreading. He downplayed the threat. He redirected my question about my family. Conclusion: the academy is monitoring the spread but is either powerless to stop it or has reasons not to."
"Reasons like what?"
"Unclear. Possibly resources. Possibly ideology. Possibly the foundation's hunger is related." Damien stopped, thinking. "We need more data. And we need Ji-Hoo. His sensitivity to resonance could map the spread within the academy itself."
"He's in isolation."
"Then we get him out."
Jin stared at him. "You want to break a quarantined healer out of the Healing Hall?"
" 'Break out' is inefficient. We will… relocate him for independent examination. Tonight. Meet me at the east cloister after moonrise. Come alone." Damien paused. "And Mori? Don't tell your sister. Her resonance signature is unusual. She might be… noticeable."
He walked away, leaving Jin standing in the hallway, the weight of the day pressing down on him.
POV: Sung Ji-Hoo
Isolation was a white room.
White walls, white floor, white cot. The only color was the pale blue of Ji-Hoo's hospital robe and the greyish smear in the corner of his vision that was his demon, currently sulking.
"Decontamination," it sneered. "As if I'm some mold on bread. I am part of you. More part of you than your own conscience."
"They're scared of you," Ji-Hoo whispered, lying on the cot, staring at the ceiling. The room was soundproofed. The silence was absolute, oppressive.
"They should be. I'm the only one telling you the truth. That village… that was a mercy. A quick, clean end to suffering. You fought it. You forced those people back into their pain. Congratulations, healer. You've mastered cruelty."
"They have families. They have a right to feel, even if it hurts."
"Do they? Does the mouse have a 'right' to feel the owl's talons? You sentimentalize agony."
The door hissed open. Healer Aris entered, carrying a tray with a steaming cup. "Tea. For the nerves. And to suppress your… passenger."
Ji-Hoo sat up. "He's not a passenger. He's me."
"Demonic resonance parasites are not 'you,' boy. They are invasive thought-forms that amplify negative emotions. We will help you excise it." Her voice was kind, but her eyes were clinical. She saw a problem to be solved, not a person to be understood.
"You can't remove him without removing part of my power," Ji-Hoo said, taking the tea. It smelled of bitter herbs and something metallic.
"Your power can be retrained. Cleanly. Without the feedback loop of suffering." She watched him drink. "The Stillness event you encountered… did your demon react?"
Ji-Hoo thought of the overwhelming quiet, the demon's unusual silence. "He was… attentive."
"He was drawn to it," Healer Aris corrected. "Parasites of your type often are. The Stillness is the ultimate amplification of emptiness. It calls to things that feed on negative space. You must be vigilant. If you feel the urge to seek out quiet places, to withdraw… report it immediately. It may not be you thinking."
She left, locking the door behind her.
Ji-Hoo lay back down. The tea made his limbs heavy, his thoughts fuzzy. The demon's voice grew distant, muted.
"…see what they do… make you small, quiet, obedient… no better than the hollow ones…"
The ceiling swam. In the haze, Ji-Hoo's thoughts drifted to Jin Mori's solid, stubborn barrier. To Damien Veridian's precise, controlling fields. They were so certain. So defined. He was all soft edges and bleeding borders.
He thought of the hollowed villagers, their peaceful faces. For one terrible second, he wondered if the demon was right. If peace was worth the price of feeling.
Then he thought of Ara Mori's fierce little throw, breaking the grey man's concentration. A small, defiant noise in all that quiet.
He held onto that image as the drug pulled him under.
POV: Jin Mori
Moonrise found Jin at the east cloister, a deserted walkway lined with statues of forgotten heroes. Damien was already there, dressed in dark, nondescript clothes. He handed Jin a similar set.
"Change. Academy robes are too recognizable."
"What's the plan?" Jin asked, pulling the dark tunic over his head.
"The Healing Hall's isolation ward has a ventilation system that connects to the old botanical air channels. There's an access grate behind a statue of Saint Livia the Merciful. We go in, retrieve Ji-Hoo, bring him to a secure location I've prepared."
"You've prepared a secure location."
"Yes."
"How long have you been planning this?"
"Since they took him." Damien's expression was unreadable. "He is a strategic asset. His condition needs to be assessed independently of academy influence. Also…" He hesitated. "His demon may have insights into the Stillness we lack."
They moved through the academy's night-shadows like ghosts. Damien's knowledge of patrol routes and blind spots was unnervingly complete. They reached the Healing Hall's exterior wall without incident.
The statue of Saint Livia was a weeping woman holding a broken sword. Behind her, half-hidden by ivy, was a rusted iron grate. Damien produced a small tool and had it off in seconds. The opening was narrow, smelling of damp earth and old roots.
"Botanical channels," Damien whispered, crawling in. "They pump aerated soil-mixture to the upper greenhouses. They run behind most of the lower floors. Follow me."
The channel was a tight, rounded tunnel of packed earth reinforced with wooden slats. Bioluminescent fungi provided a faint greenish glow. Jin crawled behind Damien, trying not to think about the weight of the building above them.
After what felt like an hour but was probably ten minutes, Damien stopped beneath a metal grille. Faint white light filtered down. Muffled voices.
"…dosage can be increased… suppress the parasitic waveform entirely…"
Ji-Hoo's voice, slurred: "…hurts…"
"Transition is always uncomfortable. Sleep now."
Footsteps. A door hissing shut.
Damien counted to thirty, then pushed the grille up. They were in a small supply closet. Peering out, Jin saw the isolation corridor—a row of white doors under harsh light. All were marked with quarantine runes.
Door number three had a fresh tray outside it. Ji-Hoo's room.
Damien picked the lock with frightening ease. They slipped inside.
Ji-Hoo was on the cot, barely conscious. His eyes fluttered open. "Jin? Am I dreaming?"
"Not unless we're sharing the dream," Jin said, helping him sit up. The healer was alarmingly light. "Can you walk?"
"I think… they drugged me. To quiet… him."
"We'll help you." Jin got one of Ji-Hoo's arms over his shoulder. Damien took the other. Together, they half-carried him back to the closet and down into the earth channel.
Getting back was harder. Ji-Hoo kept fading in and out. At one point, he mumbled, "The foundation… it's not hungry. It's full. It's digesting."
Damien froze. "Explain."
But Ji-Hoo had passed out again.
They emerged behind Saint Livia's statue, hauling Ji-Hoo out into the cool night air. Damien led them to a disused watchtower on the academy's outer wall—a place forgotten by patrols.
Inside, Damien had set up a cot, water, basic medical supplies, and a small, shielded lantern that gave off a warm, contained light.
They laid Ji-Hoo down. Jin checked his pulse—steady, but weak.
"What now?" Jin asked.
"Now we wait for him to wake. And we talk." Damien sat on an old crate, his face illuminated from below by the lantern. "The foundation is 'digesting.' What does that mean?"
"You think I know?"
"I think you feel things others don't. I think your sister feels them too. The pulses. The hunger. What if it's not drawing energy in… but processing something it's already consumed?"
Jin thought of the hollowed student in the archives, wheeled into the dark. "The students who disappear."
"Exactly. Raw material. For what?" Damien's eyes glittered in the lamplight. "What is the academy building down there, Jin? And why does it need human resonance to do it?"
They sat in silence, watching Ji-Hoo sleep. The only sound was the distant wind over the walls.
After a while, Jin spoke. "Back in Haven's Fall. You told the Headmaster you were from a family that knows about the Stillness. Is that true?"
"Yes."
"Then you know more than you're saying."
Damien was quiet for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically hollow. "My family's lands are on the edge of the Silent Wastes. I grew up with stories. But I also grew up with ledgers. My family doesn't just guard against the Stillness, Jin. They trade with it."
Jin stared. "Trade how?"
"Artifacts. Resources. Information. There are… factions within the Stillness. Not all of it wants to consume everything. Some parts want to… negotiate. To find efficient ways to coexist. My family acts as intermediaries."
"That's treason."
"It's survival." Damien met his gaze. "The Headmaster knows. The Seven Warlords know. The war against the Stillness isn't a war. It's a border negotiation with occasional violent tariffs. And the currency is human lives. The weak, the resonant, the 'contaminated.' They feed them to the border to keep it stable. To buy time."
The pieces crashed together in Jin's mind. The disappearing students. The academy's hunger. The proctors' lack of surprise. The quarantine of anyone who got too close.
"We're not being trained to fight," Jin said, the horror dawning. "We're being sorted. The strong become soldiers. The weak become… fuel."
"Or bargaining chips," Damien nodded. "Ji-Hoo, with his demon, is a high-value piece. Your sister, with her unusual sensitivity, might be another. You and I, with our absolute-tier potential, are either future generals… or especially potent sacrifices."
The weight of it was crushing. Jin stood up, needing to move. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're a variable I can't calculate," Damien said, looking at him with that intense, unsettling focus. "Your choices aren't based on logic or survival. They're based on… justice. On protection. In a system this corrupt, that makes you either the most dangerous person here, or the only one worth allying with."
Jin looked at the sleeping Ji-Hoo, thought of Ara alone in her room, of his father and brother back on the farm, trusting the academy to keep him safe.
"We have to get them out," Jin said. "Ara. Ji-Hoo. Everyone they'll target."
"Escape is impossible without resources, planning, and power we don't have yet," Damien said. "First, we need to understand exactly what's happening. We need proof. We need to know what's in the deep levels. And for that…" He looked at Ji-Hoo. "We need an amplifier who can listen to the foundation's heartbeat and tell us what it's saying."
Ji-Hoo stirred, his eyes opening. They were clear now, the drug fading. He looked at Jin, then Damien, then the unfamiliar room. His demon's voice, when it came, was a dry rasp only Ji-Hoo could hear, but the fear on his face was plain.
"Oh, little healer. You've gone and made friends with the most dangerous variables in the equation. How… loud this is going to get."
Ji-Hoo swallowed. "What do you need me to do?"
Damien leaned forward, the lantern light carving shadows into his face.
"We need you to listen to the heart of the beast. And then we need you to help us cut it out."
End of Chapter 4.