They’re all in a room together, settled in silence, for what feels like the first time in eons.

Before it was outside, training; even just an hour before they were attempting to train themselves into their powers, but there was nothing doing. It felt typical, that silence from that end of themselves; if there was going to be any learning of their powers at all, it’d be harder to come across than that, surely. Camille and Mikael had practiced with their own, but there wasn’t much luck with unlocking the others’.

The former of the pair had an ability far more unwieldy than the latter, but during the latest session she was able to recall something that made her feel nothing but joy. It lifted her spirits, and even in the strange silence they bask in, she smiles over the rim of her cup. The steam sinks into her, warm tea nourishing a small part of her.

She feels the memory of her siblings lifting her; they were at a cheap carnival sort of deal, something that could be put up and taken down in a single day. The rides were rickety and just a little scary in that merit, but the food was greasy and good and the smiles about her siblings lifted her up as high as she could go.

“You look happy.” Gideon notes, jerking their head upwards at Camille, “Are you still on a high, or something?”

“Hey, it’s sort of rare here, isn’t it?” Zephyr asks.

“That’s exactly why I’m asking.” they reply, sounding a little terse. They seem to match Namir in their typically brusque tone.

“Calm down, calm down.” he says gently, waving a hand. They mess up his already disheveled hair.

Camille’s smile grows wider at the display, at Gideon’s begrudging grin when Zephyr pushes his hand into their face ( “I said calm.” ).

“Yeah, feels like it. It feels good, so I’m not really complaining.” she says quietly, though she shrinks a little in her seat. It’s as though making herself smaller will keep the happy, warm feelings inside her just a little tighter.

From where she perches on the end of the couch, Hyacinth shifts and pipes up in her flutey voice, “So I was thinking … Maybe we can learn more about one another … I think it’d be good for us.”

“How do you propose we do this?” Gideon goes, a little flat for Hye’s liking.

“Story time? I’d like to hear about you guys, at least.” Hye doesn’t balk at Gideon’s clipped tone, either way, instead pushing forward. They shrug.

“Could be all right.” they go, “Since you suggested it, you should start.”

“Mmm … Maybe not.” she says, looking down at her own cup, “Unless you ask me something specific, I’m not sure what I can share. My life was … Was pretty boring.”

Zephyr’s eyes narrow and look over her form. She’s the picture of poise and ease, smiling a little with the admission of an uneventful life, but he knows this immediately to be a lie. He doesn’t call her out, however.

“Okay, then, tell us about …” he searches a little; he goes to call out something she might not be so guilty of, but it’s something that a deep part of him feels compelled to ask about, “Your first fist fight.”

“If you’ve actually been in one, I’ll be surprised.” Gideon snorts; is the question out of disbelief against her calm and quiet nature, or is it something else … ?

Hyacinth laughs quietly, “I haven’t. The closest I’ve ever gotten would be a good story, though.”

She crosses one leg over the other, “It was … Mmm … I think I was fifteen. I had just moved and someone at my new school heard my last name. Ahn.

“So my brother, Yarrow, used to go to that school himself when he was younger. He’s ten years older, so he and I were never close. Anyway, I guess his reputation as a party boy really turned wild, because I was being pestered left and right about my cool and famous brother.”

“Yeah, I feel that.” Gideon says, nudging Zephyr in the ribs.

“Not a good feeling, in my case. I got pretty … heated when people kept calling him a legend.” she laughs lightly, but then her smile drops a little. Zephyr knows that look; that just-a-beat-too-long silence. It says everything; she’s remembering that the story might not be so good to tell. She changed her mind, now that she’s into it deep enough.

She waves a hand, continues, “So I got … I got into it with this girl. She said she wanted to meet him and I ended up, um. Yelling a bit. I got sent home for the day.”

Her laugh comes sheepish then.

“See? My life’s been … b-boring,” as the last word quivers out of her throat, she holds a hand up to her mouth, suddenly looking shaken and pale. “I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“What for? What’s wrong?” Camille asks, sitting forward as sudden as Hyacinth’s ails.

“I’m gonna throw up—” she’s standing, bolting for the nearest trash can. Just outside the room, she retches and throws up into the bin. Concern fills Zephyr, and he’s moving out and into the room she’s in, hand hovering just a little above her back.

She shakes, holding her arms around her middle, as though she’s hugging herself. Another retch, but nothing comes up. After a couple moments, filled with shaking breaths, she rights herself and steadies her footing with a hand on Zephyr’s arm.

“I-I’m okay, I’ll be okay.”

“Why did you get sick … ? More Shard nonsense?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know, I just … Felt ill.” she sniffs, heading across the room. She rinses out her mouth, takes a couple drinks from the bottle. Repeating herself, she offers Zephyr a smile, “I’ll be okay.”

He’s not convinced.

He smiles back anyway, because what place does he have calling her out on that? He puts out a hand to pat her on the shoulder.

But the hand passes right through her.

“Wh-what the—” he stammers, and brings his hand back up the path it took; it passes through her easily. Hyacinth is just as startled, backing away from him; she looks at her hands. She looks solid, corporeal — but moving her hand over one of the central beams in the room confirms the ability.

“Can you control it … ?”

“I hope so,” she laughs weakly, “Let me concentrate.”

He stays quiet, though he wants to ask and ask.

After a couple moments — closed eyes, shaking willed right out of her — she passes a hand over her face. Solid again, she sighs audibly in relief.

“Okay … I think,” she murmurs, “I think I got it.”

Zephyr inhales and exhales in lieu of saying anything, nodding once.

“All right.” he says, finally, feeling a strange sense of lucidity about the whole thing, as though the reality of their situation is hitting him. Him, the human, not the Godshard. Zephyr. He points towards the other room, “Think we should get back in there? They’re probably worried.”

“Yes, I think so.” she murmurs, her voice suddenly small. He frowns, but leads the way anyway.

“The hell was that?”

“I got sick and then turned into a ghost.” she says simply, though she sighs all heavy when she takes her seat again, as though the weight of the world is on her shoulders alone.

“… Pardon?” Gideon goes.

“I turned into a ghost. Zephyr’s hand passed right through me, like this.”

When she puts her hand through her own chest, the other Shards recoil. It seems as though, at this rate, it’ll take a long time until they get used to the shock of their odd powers.

“It’s good you can control it …” Camille says gently, “It looks useful.”

“What I’m wondering is how she unlocked that ghost noise in the first place.” Namir goes, leans forward, “You were just talking about a regular screaming match, right?”

“I mean. Yeah.” she says, and again that just-a-beat-too-long silence fills the room once more, “But I don’t want to go there again.”

“… Okay.” he replies, “I guess it doesn’t matter. You got it, you can control it, it’s fine.”

Mikael interjects, “I think it actually might be worth examining how, Hyacinth. It could tell you how to unlock more, or what we can do to move forward.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t go there again.” her voice comes firm, and her gaze locked on Mikael’s seems to burn a little with pleading and warning all at once. “I won’t. We’ll find another way.”

The silence that lays over them all is, once again, strange, terse, tense, awkward, unwanted. Hyacinth stubbornly, anxiously worries her fingers into the fabric of her shirt, keeping her head and gaze down both.

Mikael ends up inviting Namir out for a smoke, and Zephyr follows them after a moment, muttering something lowly about old, bad habits. Gideon watches after him as he leaves, and then rocks backwards in their own seat.

“I think I need to sleep, but I don’t want to.” they murmur, and still their voice gets softer, “I keep feeling like I’m gonna miss something.”

“I can wake you if something happens.” Camille offers. “I don’t feel very tired myself.”

They consider, biting a little at their lower lip. Camille notices their eyes all heavy-lidded, a slackening of their posture, their countenance. They really do look tired; for once, they don’t wear that exhaustion over them and carry it as well as they might have before.

It’s wearing on them, all of them, and they haven’t even truly begun yet.

They find sleep quicker at Camille’s urging than they had the last few times they tried to sleep. The last thing they think, before they finally drift off, is that they’re thankful for the rest.

*

“Where’s Zephyr?” comes Gideon’s voice, heavy with sleep. They didn’t dream, and for this they’re thankful; typically their dreams are strange at best.

It was the first thing that rolled out of their throat upon sitting up on the couch, the first thing that occurred to them. Namir is the only other person in the room, seated on a chair with one leg slung over the arm of it. It looks uncomfortable, but he seems to be the picture of ease.

“Outside.” he says, not looking up from his book for a moment; but then he does, glancing over at Gideon, “He got up a couple hours ago to keep training, he’s probably still at it.”

Gideon rubs the sleep out of their eyes, “Thanks. He’ll be out there all day unless I go kick his ass to rest.”

“Diligence is diligence, I guess.” he turns back to his book, leaving that at that.

After willing themself awake some more, after brushing their teeth and changing their clothes, they move out and into the backyard.

They almost expect sunlight to greet them, yawning and stretching out behind some clouds. Yet all there is on the strange backdrop of grey is that ring of moon, the cartoonish clouds. It’s unsettling, to be bathed in that moonlight. What’s it doing to them … ? What’s it doing to the land, the animals? They haven’t seen much beyond the boundary of the cul-de-sac.

Namir proved on his first night awake that what lies past those boundaries is nothing to mess with unprepared.

Gideon shakes their head to dislodge the thoughts; Zephyr is out there with Mikael, going through the motions of mock-battle. Camille sits on the ground a little ways away, seated next to Hye. The latter pair looks utterly exhausted as Gideon draws closer. They stay by them, watching Zephyr flip Mikael around and onto his back on the ground.

“Uuuugh,” Mikael groans, “At least give me a chance, tough guy.”

“I am!” he goes, helping Mikael up, turning to glance at Gideon, “Hey Gids. Sleep well?”

They snort, a bit derisive, “Yeah, for once. How long have you been at this?”

“Couple hours?” Zephyr looks at Mikael, who nods and dusts himself off, “Yeah. Not sure how long exactly, but I think I’m wearing these guys out.”

He punctuates the latter statement with a slight laugh, a little sheepish. Camille just nods, holding up a hand.

“He’s really going hard at this.”

“Is it because of your realm or something?” Mikael asks, “Like, you gotta live up to your title as Diligence?”

“I mean … I guess.” he rubs at the scruff on his chin, “But I …”

He looks to Gideon, then down at his feet, “I have people to find and protect. I won’t get anywhere by just wishing for my … My powers, so I might as well try to figure them out.”

“If that ain’t the purest thing that’s been said since we all woke up.” Mikael takes a seat on the ground next to the girls, groaning a little and rubbing at his elbow, “Gideon, can you clock in and train with Zeph? He’s runnin’ me ragged.”

Zephyr laughs again, “You’re picking it up well, though. Gideon? You down?”

Gideon considers. They’ve learned some from Zephyr over the years in the way of self-defense; it was at his urging, even. They nod all the same.

Zephyr takes them through the motions and never seems tired or worn, not even a little. Sure he sweats and breathes hard the harder they work at it, but he shows no other sign of slowing. Gideon, however, tires out the longer they’re thrown around and flipped.

“Mercy, mercy,” they go, holding up their hands, “You sure this endurance of yours isn’t your ability? I mean damn, Zeph.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” he shrugs, “Maybe I can get Namir out here.”

“Namir’s probably asleep in his chair by now. He looked a little tired when I saw him.” Gideon says gently, and then they move to push Zephyr bodily towards the basement, “C’mon. You’ve been at it all day. Take a rest.”

“Just a little longer, Gids.” he says, and then stops altogether, stiffening up considerably. He glances at Gideon, at the ground, the sky, his hands held out in front of him, all quickly and jerky. He pales a little, looking as though he’s seen a ghost.

“Huh? You okay?” Gideon asks quietly, bending to get a look at his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel shaky all of a sudden,” he murmurs, and unceremoniously falls back against the side of the house to lean against it. “Real bad.”

“Shit. Do you need anything? When’s the last time you ate?”

Mikael, Hye, and Camille come up closer.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Hye asks gently.

“Just shaky.” he holds out a hand to look at it, and indeed he’s trembling considerably. Gideon looks around nervously, not sure if this is a result of his training, or if it’s more Shard nonsense, or if it’s something more eldritch and sinister. Their heart picks up a quicker pace, suddenly nervous with the thoughts that come along with the uncertainty.

Zephyr seems to be calmer than them, even though he’s the one rendered weaker, “Hey, calm—”

It’s then that Laika comes running around the corner of the house from the front yard, and no one has seen them in such a state before — eyes wide, panting, fright in their limbs and posture.

“Guys, I need to get—get Namir,” they say, “They’re—they’re outside, they’re out front, they’re here—”

“Who’s here? The Ink?” Mikael speaks but he visibly blanches; he looks how the rest of them feel. Utterly horrified by the prospect of their enemies finding them.

They freeze right up.

Gideon feels worthless for that — something needs to be done now, and their legs seem as though they can’t move. They finally take off running towards the front, dread dread dread pulling them down with each step they take. All the others follow; Namir and Laika are quick to join them in the front.

There’s two individuals, standing in the street proper, looking to be the picture of ease.

The taller of the two is solid, sure, strong in her stance. Her face is stony, eyes blacked over and raking over the forms of the Shards. The most noticeable — and horrifying — thing about her is the drooling, dripping mouths dotted along her body. There’s one on her cheek, one at her throat; along her arms and her hands.

They have sharp teeth, gnashing hungrily, needfully, incessantly.

The man next to her has his arms crossed over his chest, looking just a little unimpressed with the show of the shaking Shards in front of them both. Blonde hair, slightly unkempt; one of his eyes is missing, a sizeable hole there where it once was.

Laika, armed with their shotgun, takes aim at the blonde and fires without hesitation.

It rips into his body and he stumbles backwards, but the blast heals back up in moments, a stringy ink-substance patching up the holes.

“Tch. What a greeting,” he groans, digging his nails into the fabric of his shirt around the healing wound, “How do you know we’re even here to hurt you?”

“We are, Scrape. Don’t play coy.”

Scrape sighs out, “You have no tact.”

“Who needs tact? We’re only here to break some heads.”

The pause there lies tense and frightened, tenuous and strange. The woman with all her terrible mouths and her shining eyes lunges forward and grips Gideon by the throat to spin them around and back away.

Indecision and incapability freezes their legs and arms to the spot like burning ice.

“You. Diligence, right?” she points with the other hand to Zephyr, “They’re your sister still?”

“Fuck—get off of me,” Gideon snarls, thrashing in her grip.

“They’re my sister, don’t hurt them,” Zephyr goes, caught between pleading and warning like a caged animal. He takes a half-step forward, breathing quick and ragged; the others aren’t in much better shape. Scrape scoffs out a laugh.

“You really are young, aren’t you.” he goes, grin splitting wide on his face.

“I said we’re here to break heads.” she says, and her voice rises, “You’re all going to watch.”

They grip Gideon’s wrist and push them forward, forcing their arm back and upwards. Their cry is sharp and loud and everyone starts — but most of all Zephyr.

“Don’t hurt them! Please,” he cries out himself, reaching fruitlessly. “Take me instead!”

“The more you talk the worse you’ll make it for them, how about that?” her voice is lofty above them all, cruel and impartial. She bends Gideon’s arm up higher, rending a scream from them, “Fucking disgusting, your take-me-save-them bullshit. You don’t really mean that.”

They’re forced onto their knees hard, and with that, kicked forward at their back to lay them flat on the ground. They gasp and heave, writhing there on the asphalt and no one can help them.

“I can’t watch this,” Zephyr’s voice comes as a groan, a plea, and then a roar, all animal and teeth to everyone’s shock and horror, “I’ll kill you!”

“Ze—”

He’s moving before Camille can finish her sentence, crouching and running and slamming against the woman hard. It takes her down, and when he rears back to punch her, she spits in his face.

“That’s what I was waiting for.” Scrape goes, and his hands are quick to move, eye shining — there’s no name for that color, the sense of horror that the sight brings. Threads of the same shade shine on their own, attaching themselves to Zephyr’s limbs.

“You’re not as righteous as you’d hoped.” he continues, and the monster beneath Zephyr cocks back and clocks him hard across the jaw. He can’t move, not with those horrible threads binding him and shooting fear right through him. Scrape then pulls Zephyr up by the threads, and slams him down on the ground; he lands with a gasp.

“Stay down and lie there. It’s all that you’re good for.”

“G … Gideon …” he groans, and he finds he can’t move to reach for them.

“I’ll kill you for that one,”

“Sumi,” Scrape then addresses her, as she’s getting to her feet. There’s a snarl on her face and murder in her eyes, “If you kill him Stolas will take your head.”

“Don’t care—”

“Well I do. Don’t even start.” he moves his hands again; not to tug at the strings so much as to show Sumi a warning, “We got what we came here for. There’s no need to kill yet.”

The threads fly off of Zephyr just as Sumi screams wordlessly, frustrated, kicking at Zephyr’s ribs in her anger. “Fine. Fine! Let’s go before I get real mad.”

Scrape is backing off already, grinning broadly at the Shards and Laika. His eye twinkles like the moon.

“See you later, Shards.” his voice is low and even and it sends a shiver up the spines of those in front of him, those who were too terrified to move. He and Sumi let the creeping, approaching shadow swallow them up.

It fades away from there, and then they’re gone.

Camille, Hye, and Laika rush immediately over to Zephyr and Gideon; Mikael and Namir hang back a little, as though to not crowd the fallen.

“Zephyr,” Camille addresses him through tears, grasping at his hand. She wants to say he and Gideon will be okay. She wants to say they’ll end the Ink again. She wants to tell him and Gideon that everything will be all right and soon the sun will shine and they’ll all have their families back and they won’t have to hurt and hide anymore.

She can’t tell him any of this.

Grasping his hand just a little tighter, she looks back at Gideon briefly. Hye has their hand in her grasp, and they’re biting their lip, pointedly looking away as silent tears roll down their cheeks.

“Gi…” he croaks, “Gideon,”

“Zephyr,” they manage, sniffling loudly and wiping at the hot tracks on their face, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I was so scared, Gids.” he breaks down, shielding his face with his arm and crying into it, “I … I can’t lose you again, I can’t.”

Gideon takes their hand from Hye’s grasp enough to move closer to Zephyr. Everyone watches them, unable to say much even if they weren’t interrupting a moment between two siblings.

“I don’t w-wanna lose you either.” they sniff, and choke on a sob, “We have to fin … finish this.”

“We should get you guys inside …” Laika cuts in gently, offering their hand to Gideon. They take it and are guided up to their feet again, wobbling where they stand. “Do you need help?”

“I should be … fine,” they sniff loudly.

Zephyr manages to get up to his feet with Camille’s help, hunching over some, “I feel like they cracked some of my ribs,”

“Shit. Let’s lay you down inside, then. We’ll take care of you.” Laika moves to Zephyr’s side, steadying him by the arm.

“I, uh.” Mikael starts; he pauses, then shakes his head with his eyes screwed shut, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything. I was scared too.”

“I don’t think any of us could.” Camille says quietly, and starts off behind Zephyr and Gideon and Laika. “But we’re going to have to. Next … Next time.”

The prospect of there being a next time sticks there like a splinter to the finger, deep and painful. Namir inhales deeply, looking over everyone and settling back on the ground They move to the backyard, slowly descending the stairs, single file as though they’re in a funeral procession. Their dirge as they march might be the stark silence of the world as they now know it, the unnatural stillness that sinks into ones bones and curls up there.

Everyone collapses into their seats, then they collapse into themselves. There’s tears to fill up the quiescence, and though no one speaks, they find they don’t need to.

The fear takes hold, and it takes hold hard.