Chapter 67: Quiet Cut
Tavin bit down on the scream, and the trapped sound came out worse.
It stayed trapped in his throat and came out as a wet, frightened animal noise while the Dead Song Gate worried at the old hook scar beneath his palm.
HAAAH!
Kael held Tavin’s hand against the ribbed stone.
Jerking free would give the gate a loose wound to pull. Kael kept the hook scar pinned against resistance while the thing in the walls showed its teeth.
Vaela understood before Jaro did.
She had never grown up in pipe tunnels. Jaro had. He knew which vents breathed heat and which ones breathed poison. He knew how fast a mouth could close once it smelled blood.
Vaela knew liars.
The gate was showing them the rib because the rib was dramatic. It made Tavin’s skin burn because fear followed pain. It wanted every eye on the obvious mouth while the real bite came from somewhere else.
Pipe mouths, bone plates, wet stone nerves, chain teeth, and old intake scars shifted by a fraction.
Vaela saw it.
"The rib is not feeding itself," she said.
Jaro shook his head too fast. "It is. The bait reaches it through the wall."
"No. The bait reaches something under the wall. The rib is only the hand."
Jaro pressed his fingers to the stone and pulled them back at once. A wet line had formed across his fingertips.
"The lung has a feeder channel," he said. "Someone cut the bait into a pipe above us. It is pumping the smell down, mouth by mouth."
"Can it reach the whole lower passage?" Renn asked.
Jaro did not answer quickly enough.
Orrek’s uninjured hand closed around the chain at his waist. "I am going to assume that means yes."
"It reaches until the pipes run dry or the thing chewing the scent gets torn open," Jaro said. "That is the honest answer."
Tavin heard it. His breath caught behind the cloth. Kael put two fingers under the carrier’s jaw and lifted his face until their eyes met.
"The pipe found a wound," Kael said. "It did not find you."
Tavin’s eyes were too wide. "It feels like the same thing."
"It is not. One can be cut."
Orrek barked one laugh, then swallowed it when the gate breathed again.
Tavin’s knees buckled. Kael caught him with one arm and kept his hand pinned with the other. The dead mark tried to pull Tavin’s fingers into the slit between its teeth.
SCRAPE!
Skin peeled from Tavin’s knuckles.
The pull traveled up Kael’s arm through the contact. Thin. Real. A black thread was trying to use the wounded carrier as a line into Kael’s hand.
The Sovereign Root stirred.
Kael pushed the command inward.
ALLOCATE!
====================================================================
[ SOVEREIGN ROOT INTERFACE OVERLAY ]
--------------------------------------------------------------------
≫ HOSTILE BLOOD-SCENT PIPE PRESSURE DETECTED
≫ EXISTENTIAL SHARDS EXTRACTED: +1
--------------------------------------------------------------------
≫ MANUAL ALLOCATION COMMAND RECEIVED
▶ SHARD ALLOCATION REGISTERED: +1 TOTAL
▶ ALLOCATION DISTRIBUTION:
- Threat Perception Instinct -> 14
[!] SYSTEM NOTICE: HIDDEN PRESSURE PATH READING IMPROVED.
====================================================================
The change landed behind Kael’s eyes like cold water.
The gate rib still pulled at Tavin’s scar, but Kael could finally see the pull’s crooked path. It did not begin beneath Tavin’s palm. It ran from the left wall through three sealed mouths, passed under the floor, and climbed into the gate rib from behind.
A pipe funnel.
A wound-hunting tool.
Vaela had seen it before the Root did.
That mattered.
Kael looked at her.
She did not look back. She was already on one knee beside the wall, blade held just above a spiral of ash packed into the stone.
"Jaro. What happens if I break the rib?"
"It wakes all the way."
"Useful bad or dead bad?"
"Both."
"So we do not break the rib."
Orrek’s uninjured hand pressed against Tavin’s shoulder. "Do not fold."
Tavin’s teeth clicked. "I am trying."
"Try uglier."
"That is not help."
"You are still talking. It helped some."
Vaela scraped one line of ash away.
She did it slowly.
The first scrape came away dry. The second was damp. The third stuck to her blade in thick black grains that smelled of old blood.
"There," she whispered.
Kael saw it now: a wet black line beneath the false ash, thin as a nerve and buried just deep enough to escape a hurried eye. The gate had covered the pressure path with decoration, trusting fear to do the rest.
A sour draft passed through the conduits and died against Kael’s chest.
The black line flexed.
Tavin’s hand jerked.
Vaela froze, thinking.
"It does not like losing the outer skin," she said.
Jaro’s face twisted. "That is no ash. It is burned pipe flesh."
"Can we cut it?"
"You can cut anything. Then the mouth knows where you are."
Kael pressed Tavin’s hand flatter against the rib.
The stone cracked beneath his palm.
CRACK!
"Not there," Vaela snapped. "It wants you to hit the rib."
Kael stopped with his weight loaded in his arm.
That took more control than striking.
Orrek noticed. "I hate learning."
"You hate every kind," Vaela said.
"Only the useless kind."
"That is all of it."
Renn had crouched near the wall with his count cord wrapped twice around his wrist. His eyes moved along the dead marks.
"The line misses one mark every four," he said.
Vaela looked over.
"Sure?"
"No."
"Necessary?"
He swallowed. "Sure enough to be scared."
Vaela nodded once. Her blade passed one mark, then another, then a third. At the next empty gap, she drove the point shallowly into the wall.
SPLIT!
The packed pipe flesh tore.
A black cord snapped out from the stone and lashed at her throat.
Kael moved first.
His free hand caught it. The cord burned across his palm and tried to burrow into the fresh cuts there. He closed his fist around it and drove his knuckles into the wall.
"Cut."
Vaela cut.
SNAP!
The gate rib released Tavin’s hand.
Tavin fell backward into Orrek and sobbed once before biting down on the sound.
The dead marks around the gate shivered.
Jaro stared at Vaela.
"You read the funnel."
"I read a liar trying too hard."
Sweat ran down her temple. She saw Kael see it and bared her teeth.
"Do not look impressed."
"I am not."
"Liar."
"Useful liar?"
For half a breath, her mouth almost curved.
"Maybe."
The gate ribs opened another finger-width.
The widening made a noise like teeth shifting in a skull.
Sella dragged Dorran back by the collar. His splinted ankle scraped the floor and he bit the sleeve over his mouth until the cloth darkened with spit. Renn held one hand against Tavin’s shoulder and used the other to keep the count cord from brushing the wet floor.
Without a word, they made room for the people who could still move and folded themselves around the people who could not.
Kael saw Vaela’s wrist. The cord had missed her throat, but the black heat had burned a thin line through the inside of her sleeve. She kept the injured hand low and refused to favor it.
"Show me," he said.
"Later."
"It may be inside the cut."
Her eyes snapped to his. Then she held out the wrist.
Kael pressed two fingers above the burn. The skin was hot, but nothing moved under it. He wiped the black smear away with ash and let her pull free.
"Later." she said again.
"Later." he agreed.
The silent seam had not died. It had lost its first path. Beneath the black stone, another mouth coughed awake and sent a fresh pull through the floor.
The Soot-Hand bait had changed shape.
It no longer hunted Tavin alone.
A black tongue slid out between the gate ribs, tasted the dust around every crawling body, and pointed at the group. It was wet black pipe skin rather than flesh, black on one side and lined with pale sensory knots on the other. Each knot opened and closed against the dust.
CLICK!
CLICK!
CLICK!
The first knot stopped near Tavin’s discarded strap fibers. The second turned toward Orrek’s blood. The third lifted toward the salt on Vaela’s blade.
The hunt had spread across all of them.
That changed the line behind him. Noll stopped trying to make himself smaller. Della pulled the furnace boy against her hip and covered his mouth with two fingers, not to silence fear, but to keep him from breathing too loud into the tongue’s path. Renn wrapped the count cord twice around his wrist so it would not swing. Even Orrek lowered his chain until the links rested against his thigh instead of clinking.
Kael crouched low enough to put his face level with the tongue. His right palm still bled from the cord. He let one drop fall onto the stone a handspan to the left.
The nearest knot snapped toward it.
There was no thought in the reaction. No judgment. Just scent, pressure, and a hungry mechanism following the strongest fresh line.
Kael picked up a loose bone pin, dragged it through his blood, and flicked it into the darkness beyond the gate.
TICK!
The pipe tongue curled after it.
For three breaths, the gate forgot the people.
Orrek’s face darkened. "I do not like that."
Kael flexed his burned palm.
"Neither does my hand."
Vaela cleaned her blade on the wall.
"That bought us breaths, not safety."
"Then we use the breaths."
Kael lifted Tavin to his feet and faced the open gate. The survivors followed because stopping had become another way to be chosen.
DONG!
Behind them, a pipe far above the crawl gave one deep cough.