The ground in the Silent Marsh was sticky and muddy… the air was bleak and dark, and mist covered most of it…
The moss glowed in so parts, and the air was humid—so much so it irritated the nose. Perhaps that was why Leona found this silent place almost as intolerable as the Whispering Forest…
Her nose felt irritated…she felt the mist irritate her nostrils with every breath she took.
She pressed her hand to it. She made no noise. Honestly, none of them did.
In the Silent Marsh, noise could an death… luckily, they had taken a potion from the Beldam's Nest that allowed telepathy—temporarily.
Leona felt lighter knowing she could still communicate with the others in this soundless world.
Moving through the marsh wasn't easy, so she shifted her armor into its first form—turning it into a lighter fit, more fabric than plate, covering only her vitals.
Even with telepathy, they remained silent in the marsh…
Damon leapt from one patch of glowing moss to another, holding the fang of the wyvern in his arm like a sword.
Leona couldn't help but think about how rigid he was when using a sword—it was like he was obsessed with following the formal route.
She couldn't even afford a sigh, lest she make any noise… the Silent Marsh wasn't too big. They should leave this cursed place in a short ti.
…Until then, silence would reign supre—for all their sakes.
Or so she thought.
Until she heard a footstep behind her—sothing erged from the water. There was a deafening splash, or rather, it seed deafening, due to the deep silence.
Leona suddenly felt a strong compulsion to turn her head and look at what was behind her.
Her head slowly began to turn.
"Don't look back…"
Sylvia's voice echoed in their heads. Leona's gaze remained forward, sweat beading down her temple.
'It's a Naless One… don't look at it. Don't think of it. Don't acknowledge it… and most of all, don't speak of it. I'll be cutting off communications—just to be safe…'
Damon stepped forward onto another glowing patch of moss, nodding silently, never looking back. He agreed with Sylvia's decision.
Leona took a deep breath. 'Don't think of it…'
That would be difficult. Especially since she could feel its gaze… and its breath on the back of her neck…
She suddenly found herself thinking about everything she knew of them…
No one knew what they looked like. They had no known weakness—save one: do not see them. If you do… you will be lost.
She tried not to think. But the more she fought it, the more it crept in.
And then… from behind, she felt sothing slowly touch her hair, lifting a few strands… she felt it sniff her hair, letting out a warm, damp breath on her nape.
Her face paled. She almost jerked around on reflex—but stopped herself, continued walking…
"Think of sothing else… think of sothing else…"
But that was getting harder with every second. The more she tried not to think of it… the more she did.
She gritted her teeth, too afraid to make a sound…
She wanted to gulp—but feared it would make a noise. Her eyes shut tight. Sothing touched her head—as if it were climbing her shoulders…
It was.
Because she suddenly felt weight on her shoulder. And when she glanced down—
She saw what appeared to be legs, dangling—as if sothing was seated on her shoulder.
She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to use magic and eviscerate everything in the vicinity.
Instead, she focused on Damon—he was in the lead. She forced herself forward, hopping from one patch of moss to the next, step by step…
Not daring to even glance at her reflection in the thick, murky waters of the marsh.
She passed the others, and the weight vanished from her shoulders. A sigh escaped her lips—relief, pure and raw.
Then she heard it. A familiar voice
A gentle, masculine voice from behind her.
'Leona… you can always tell how strong soone is by how much they eat…'
Her father's voice.
She nearly turned—nearly snapped her neck back—but caught herself. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she moved to stand beside Damon.
She closed her eyes.
Think of sothing else… just think of sothing else.
The tension in her body began to ease. Slowly, deliberately, she allowed herself to drift—sowhere distant, so corner of mory she could lose herself in.
And then, just as her nerves began to untangle, the irritation in her nose returned with a vengeance.
A gust of breath slipped out.
She sneezed.
It was a small thing—barely even a sound in any normal place.
But in the Silent Marsh…
It was a bang.
Damon's eyes snapped open, wide with horror.
Leona's blood turned cold as she clutched her nose, her expression frozen.
She couldn't have stopped it.
And then—
A rustle.
From the thickets of the marsh, sothing erged. A black blur, fast—unnatural.
It burst through the plants.
A hulking shape, its skin pitch black, stretched and veined. Its wide mouth hung open without sound, a shriveled circle where eyes should've been. No eyes—just torn skin and folds. A hunched fra dragged itself upright as it turned toward Leona.
Every nerve scread.
Run.
She bit her lip, hands tightening around the hilt of her Ascendant Sword. She stepped forward.
If this was her end—so be it. Her friends would live.
The thing darted forward.
Fast. Too fast. Faster than anything she could dodge.
She raised her blade anyway.
But just before it reached her—
Damon.
He grabbed her. One hand over her mouth and nose, muffling her breath. The other sealed his own face, locking them both in silence.
The creature stopped.
Inches away.
Silent.
Breathing heavy. But not from its lungs.
It lood, soundless, head twitching unnaturally. Its skin stretched as it leaned close, too close.
Leona stared at Damon.
And in her eyes—apology.
He shook his head.
Still.
Unmoving.
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