Speaker 1: A forest of Earth and mind, an Arcane Heart Studio production.
Speaker 2: Created and written by Ainsley Bay. Chapter fourteen, the facade cracks.
The silence in the dining room isn't peaceful. It's heavy,
like the air before a thunderstorm, thick with the kind
of static that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
I stare at my coffee. It's black, motionless and completely unappetizing.
At the head of the table, macam eats with mechanical
precision knife fork chew, swallow. He's pretending everything ignormal. That's
the slate way, isn't it. If you ignore the crazy
hard enough, maybe it'll just go away. Across from me,
Maya giggles. It's a bright, glassy sound that shatters the
tension for exactly one second before the silence swallows it whole.
It's just so atmospheric, she says, gesturing vaguely at the windows.
Atmospheric that's one word for it. Outside, it's eight thirty
in the morning, but the sky is an odd, blackish purple.
The sun hasn't risen. It's just sitting there below the horizon,
held back by a physics defying hand that Malcolm refuses
to acknowledge. The room is lit by candles, hundreds of them,
casting long, flickering shadows that dance a little too rhythmically
against the stone walls and your eyes. Coy. Maya continues,
leaning forward. She's enchanted, poor girl. She thinks she's in
a romance novel. She doesn't know she's in a horror story.
They're literally glowing like gold dust.
Speaker 1: I look up.
Speaker 2: She's right. Coy is sitting next to her, looking like
a man who's been starving for a decade and just
found a banquet. He's basking in her attention, soaking it
up like sunlight. But his eyes they are just amber.
They're glowing. They're literally glowing. I have no idea what
is happening, but I now have no doubt whatsoever something
is happening. I guess I just have expressive eyes. He murmurs,
his voice, low and emotionless, in the let's change the
subject way. Maya laughs again, breathless, expressive. I like that.
They're just so beautiful. Here, let me see. She stands
up to shift your chair closer. It happens fast. Malcolm's
fork hits his plate. Clang. Sit down. The voice isn't
loud it doesn't need to be. It's granite grinding against granite.
It's the sound of a mountain deciding to move. Maya freezes,
half risen. Oh, I was just you are a guest
in this house, Malcolm says, not looking at her. He's
slicing a sausage with surgical violence. You will not interrogate
my son about his anatomy, Dad Koi starts his face
flushing silence. Kir, sitting beside me, puts a hand on
the table. His fingers are long, elegant and white knuckled. Father,
it's fine, Maya. Just it is not fine, Malcolm snaps.
He looks up then, and I flinch. His eyes are
glowing too, a hard, flat gillow that belongs to a predator,
not a father. We have indulged this intrusion long enough.
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. I feel
Keir stiffened beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. This isn't
the benevolent patriarch act. This is the alpha, and the
alpha isn't angry. He's terrified, which makes him dangerous. I'm sorry,
Maya whispers. She looks small suddenly. I didn't mean to
be rude. I just thought they were pretty. Malcolm stands up.
He unfolds himself from the chair, looming over the table
like a shadow. His eyes are none of your concern,
he says. In fact, I believe it is time you left.
Speaker 1: What.
Speaker 2: Corey scrambles up his chair, screeching against the floor. No,
she's staying until Sunday. She is leaving now. I I
can go pack. Maya stammers, tears welling up. Don't bother.
We will ship your things. Get to your car. You
can't talk to her like that. Coy shouts. His voice cracks,
and there it is, the grow felt in the chest
rather than heard. I am the master of this house. Whoa,
Malcolm roars the words, and the candles flare blue, violent hot,
the windows rattle in their frames. It's not just a shout,
It's a command, backed by sentries of blood and authority.
Maya whimpers, what was that? I move before, I think.
I catch her eye and I let all the fear
I'm feeling bleed into my face. Maya, I say, my
voice sharp, go now, but just go please. She sees it.
Then she looks at Malcolm, at the unnatural stillness of him,
at the blue fire in the hearth, and she runs.
We hear her footsteps pounding down the hall, the heavy
thud of the front door. Maya wait, Kai lunges after her.
Mc coy stay where you are, Malcolm barks. Cooy ignores him.
The door slams again, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.
I exhale, my breath, shaking. I like her. Malcolm braces
his hands on the table, his head hanging low. He
looks old, suddenly defeated. Liking has nothing to do with anything.
He turns to Kir. She saw the eyes of the wolf.
She saw pretty eyes. Dad, Keir says quietly, she didn't
see a wolf until you started acting like one. Mackham
glares at his air. Do not lecture me, boy, You
feel it, don't you? The pressure the magic is too strong.
He gestures wildly at the room, at the purple light
pressing against the glass. If she stays here another hour,
she won't just see eyes, she'll see boom. A heavy
pounding knock. It echoes through the room, stopping the air
in my lungs. It didn't come from the front door.
It came from the terrace. The glass doors that face
the gorge. The doors that face the timberlands. No one
knocks on those doors. Kre Is moving before the echo fades,
placing himself between me and the glass. Malcolm straitens, the
Alpha masks sliding back into place. The lock turns, the
latch clicks, The door swings open, and the wind rushes in, cold,
smelling of ozone and wet rotting leaves. A figure stumbles
in from the twilight. It's Hollis, one of the sentinels.
He's pale, his heavy coat streaked with mud, his eyes
wide and wild. Alpha he gasps, kre Hollis Kire steps forward.
What are you doing? Down from the ridge. There's a smell,
Hollis shivers coming from the gap. What smell? Malcolm asks,
I wonder what kind of smell would terrify a near
feral werewolf? Old magic like flowers on a grave. I
look at MacCAM. I expect anger, I expect him to
shout orders to rally the troops, but he just closes
his eyes. It's them, isn't it, Kier asks softly. Ah yes,
Malcolm whispers, who I ask? As no one is saying anything.
The fay Kiir doesn't even look at me, as he replies,
he's staring at Hollis. I clutch my coffee cup, the
ceramic biting into my palm, so I say, my voice trembling.
The engine is smoking, viv Keir warns, no, I stand up.
My leg's shaking. I told you, I told you something
was wrong. I told you none of this was right.
I point to the fireplace, which is now glowing with
green fire, and I don't even know what any of
this means. Thank you, Hollis, Malcolm says, with a tone
that is more dismissal than gratitude. I'll need to warn
the other Sentinel families, Hollis says, as he walks backward
toward the door, his eyes on Malcolm. You do that,
And with Malcolm's words, Hollis turns and rushes out. The
door slams shut, but the cold remains. Keir turns to
his father. WE need to talk about sortcha about what
happens when they get here. There is nothing to talk about,
Malcolm says, turning his back on us to stare into
the fire. We wait, we pay the debt. We don't
even know what the debt is, Kere shouts. Malcolm doesn't
turn around, we will know soon enough. He stares into
the flames, and the firelight catches his eyes. They aren't
just gold anymore. They're terrified. And outside, the purple sky
begins to darken enough that I can see stars.
Speaker 1: The shadow moves where the light one stood. So then
whispers in the empty the wind did cry. It cause
my mind a fleeting acle. Signal boxers and fa