Chapter 17
The Void cultists were strange.
Completely silent. And almost deferential.
As Wraith walked through the tunnels, they stepped out of her way and bowed their heads to her. Stood statue still until she had passed.
Directions, though? Not their strong suit.
Which was starting to vex her. Violently.
She wished navigating real space worked like the Inbetween.
There, it was a knowing.
No maps, no instruments. You just knew where you were relative to real space. Could exit accordingly.
She reviewed her current situation.
Usually.
Here, she just had to guess. And that hadn’t been working out that well so far.
How the hell had she managed to find her way back from the cells floating on Silk yesterday?
The place had made more sense then. It’s corridors as familiar as the Inbetween.
Oh. Of course. Zane, you absolute bastard.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool plascrete wall of the Tunnel. Let herself sink. Let herself feel.
It was barely noticeable, but it was there. The smallest tug. Tugs. Coming from the same direction.
She opened her eyes and turned back the way she had come. She had a reckoning to get to—and now she knew the way.
“Why is it called the First Altar?”
Kael and Shade sat on the fallen masonry in a broken, circular room that was overgrown with plants of a kind Kael had never seen before.
In the center was a plinth.
Five shallow pentagons stacked on top of each other, each smaller than the one under it, and a rectangular column set in the center—barely a meter high.
All made of rock that looked like obsidian, but felt electric when touched.
He’d circled the strange structure when Shade first brought him in, its pulsing presence unsettling him in a way he couldn’t explain.
Shade studied it now.
“It was here first. If you believe the stories, this is where we first touched the Hollow. Where the Choir first sang to us. Where we first worshiped the places between the stars.”
“What or who are they? I saw the graffiti outside, but I’ve never heard of them before.”
Shade turned to him, a predatory sheen in his eyes. “You need to up your security clearance, Major.”
“I’m the impatient type, Zane. So, why don’t you tell me instead?”
For a moment, the man looked haunted, a true ghost. He even seemed less solid. Then Kael blinked and the impression was gone.
Shade stood and walked over to him, shocked him by sitting and wrapping an arm around him and laying his head on Kael’s shoulder.
The man’s grip was firm.
“You called me Zane. That means we can snuggle.”
He didn’t shrug him off. He needed answers. Needed to understand not just the site, but the man beside him. The one who’d once flown through the Fold alongside Wraith as part of the best navigator unit they’d ever produced.
So, he could work with this. Probably.
“Oh-kay.”
Shade exhaled slowly, as if he’d been holding his breath for Kael’s answer.
“Have you ever seen the Others? Personally, I mean?”
Kael nodded slowly. He shouldn’t be admitting it. Not to this man. But some quid pro quo was going to be needed.
“Then you’ve seen the Hollow.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s what they call themselves. The Hollow Travelers.”
“And you know this, how?”
Shade gave him a little squeeze, “That would be telling.”
Okay, changing tacks.
“And the Choir?”
“If you’ve never heard it, it’s impossible to explain.”
“Try.”
“To hear the Choir is to become one with the universe. It’s not something you can just describe. And it’s not so much hearing the song as losing yourself in it. Willingly. And when they decide you’re ready, you disappear. Just… gone. No body. No fear. No time. Just song.”
For the first time since they’d met, Kael heard true fanaticism in Shade’s voice. The narrative was similar to the Void Cult’s propaganda he’d gotten to know intimately.
But this was more nuanced.
Shade’s tone spoke to release, whereas the Cult had always sought to control. Underneath it all.
“That’s why you’re here with the Cult? You want to be part of the Choir.”
“You could call us an offshoot. A splinter group, if you will.” He raised his head and looked Kael in the eye. “And who says I’m not already part of the Choir?”
“Stop teasing my Tether, Zane.”
Wraith stepped into the room just as Shade tightened his grip on the comically stiff Major.
“But he’s so snuggly,” he said, utterly unrepentant.
She rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the back of the head. Almost affectionately.
“I don’t know how you can stand to be in here.” Her gaze landed on the plinth. The column. The key.
Whatever it was, it pulsed like a migraine behind her eyes.
Both men had risen, facing her now.
The Major looked wary, confused. But Shade’s expression had gone reverent.
“You hear it, don’t you?” he said, voice low. “It sings.”
“Singing? More like metal on a hull breach.”
Shade’s eyes slid sideways, fixing on Kael.
“He doesn’t hear it. Not yet.” He turned his head to face the Major. “But you feel it, don’t you, Sunshine?”
Kael said nothing, barely listening. His ears caught the words, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on Wraith, who was only a few steps in front of him, but may as well have been on the other side of the Void.
She’d never directly referred to him as her Tether before. As if it was something she preferred not to think about.
And fair enough.
But now, she’d pulled it to the forefront. Placed it between them.
It shouldn’t have mattered. He’d known she wasn’t someone who would take comfort easily.
But he hadn’t realized until Shade told him, how much the leash scraped at her. It wasn’t something he thought about, most of the time. But why would he? He held the damn thing. He didn’t have to wear it.
But knowing that now? Having her slam it between them like an ArmorGlass door?
It cut him like a dagger to the chest.
And he knew he had zero right to feel that way.
“I’ll just leave you two to catch up,” he told them, turning for the exit. “Wraith, let me know if you need help hiding the body later.”
“You stay, Major,” she replied, and for a bare second his heart jumped. “This place sets my teeth on edge. Come on, Zane.”
And she walked out, followed casually by Shade, who gave him a very smug and knowing look.
Then he was alone.
Staring at the plinth that seemed to vibrate from all the tension in the air.
He didn’t need to hear it sing.
He could already feel its judgment.