Chapter Nine: The Quiet That Hurts
Tartarus breathed cold silence into every street.
Seraphyne had walked through dozens of cities—some burned, some buried, some forgotten. But none made her stomach twist like this one. It was too clean. Too perfect. A kingdom pretending it didn't have blood under its nails.
She kept to Solene's side as they made their way through the outer districts. They tried the taverns first—dim places with bitter drink and patrons who barely spoke above a whisper. The barkeepers didn't recognize Nerys's name, or if they did, they pretended not to.
"Can't help you," one grunted, wiping down a chipped mug. "We don't get Cael business in here. We know better."
Solene didn't flinch. She just nodded, thanked him, and moved on.
Next came the guards. Low-ranking men in black and crimson, their hands twitching near hilts when Seraphyne so much as looked at them.
"Missing person?" one said. "Plenty of those lately."
"Anything strange happen at the Cael estate recently?" Seraphyne asked, voice sweetened with false warmth.
He smirked. "You're asking if House Cael does anything normal?"
The joke didn't land. Solene had already walked away.
Even the urchins—clever-eyed kids Seraphyne usually relied on for coin-fed gossip—offered only shrugs and nervous glances.
By the third hour, Seraphyne could feel it in the way Solene carried herself. Not slower. Not weaker.
Just... hollowed.
Like hope was dripping out of her in tiny cracks only Seraphyne could see.
By the fifth, Solene stopped speaking at all.
They sat in the corner of an empty plaza, surrounded by looming spires and tight alleys that whispered with snow-dusted wind. A pair of Cael knights marched past without a glance. Solene's hand didn't even twitch.
That scared Seraphyne more than the wolves. More than Gareth.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Solene didn't answer.
Her eyes stayed forward, fixed on something far away. Maybe a memory. Maybe nothing at all.
Seraphyne tried again, shifting closer. "We've still got options. Maybe someone's just scared to talk. Or maybe—"
"No one knows," Solene said, her voice quiet. Not cold. Just... drained. "Or they're lying. Either way, it means she's hidden deep."
Seraphyne searched her face. The cracks were visible now. Just beneath the surface.
Every door unopened. Every blank stare. Every shrugged answer. It hadn't just denied her.
It had erased Nerys.
Seraphyne had seen war. She'd watched entire bloodlines vanish. But this—this was different. This was silence weaponized. Cruel in a way even demons couldn't perfect.
"You can still try the estate," Seraphyne said gently. "If anyone knows where she is... it's there."
Solene finally looked at her. And what Seraphyne saw nearly broke her.
Not fear.
Not rage.
Grief. Pure and sharp.
"Seraphyne," Solene said, "if she's gone…"
Seraphyne didn't let her finish.
"She's not."
"How do you know?"
"I don't," Seraphyne admitted. "But if she is… we'll burn this city clean enough to find the ashes."
Solene blinked at that. Just once.
Then she nodded.
It wasn't strength.
It was survival.
And that was enough for now.
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