With the floor of the Jungle of Silence barred to them, their only other option was to camp out in trees. Thankfully, the further in they went, as they trekked southwards towards the Den, the taller and thicker the trees became, so there was plenty of space to set up tents and facilities, even if the trees themselves were too hard and uneven for them to properly peg the big tent. That left several dangerous spots on the floor, which they marked with pieces of cloth or whatever was at hand.

  No matter how careful they were in keeping all entrances and air gaps closed, the white dust still found a way into their tents, their toilets, and even their mattresses. It became a daily habit to brush as much of it out of the tents as it was possible, before the healers used their cleansing skills to remove the accumulating bone dust from within their bodies.

  Due to the need to remain as quiet as possible, as well as the lack of a proper floor underneath them, they had mostly been forced to put a pause to their training, and instead, they slept, they talked, and they pondered. And there was much to be pondered over.

  Gad stepped out of the tent, and headed for the guide, who stood watch from a nearby branch.

  Over a week had passed since they’d entered the Gloom, and Gad was almost beginning to forget the caress of the breeze, or the gentle green-purple shimmering light from the waterfall in the Gap. The Jungle of Silence was a place of nothingness and falling, deadly dust, and it evoked in her memories she’d rather forget, of endlessly dark corridors. She’d noticed the nightmares while on watch, so she knew she wasn’t the only one remembering their Climb.

  I miss the Jungle Tops, she thought, as she trudged upwards towards Sej. The birds, the bugs, the glowing plants… This is no place for people. Even the Hungry Jungle was preferable.

  There were fights in the Jungle of Silence as well, of course, but they were chaotic affairs devoid of any sound, as even the predators that dwelled in that dark place knew that, ultimately, they too were nothing but prey to the Quiet. The big, bloodthirsty bats they encountered, they giant spiders and their dens filled with spiderwebs and mummified victims, and even the noble looking, but sharp taloned and beaked white owls that ambushed them from the dark, gliding through the still air in such silent, smooth flights that barely disturbed the white dust and which all of their sensors had trouble picking up on until it was too late. All of these beasts conducted their deadly business in near absolute silence, not even screaming as they died.

  The apprentices too, had to make some changes and allowances for such quiet combat, and many of their skills had been banned, such as Nar’s mighty, but thunderous [Aura Blade], which would’ve been a Radiant-sent against all those aerial beasts, as there seemed to be few terrestrial foes in the area that dared to reveal themselves to the large party.

  A hand appeared in front of her face, and Gad took it, allowing Sej to pull her up to her branch.

  “Are you okay?” Gad asked her.

  The woman sighed. “I never liked this place. Too much silence leaves a person with nothing better to do than to think, and in this place, there are no happy thoughts.”

  The morsvar nodded as she took a seat beside the guide. For a moment, they allowed the silence to creep back in, and close around them with its smothering absoluteness.

  “I’m sorry. I cannot help you,” Sej whispered, her eyes roving the black and white existence that surrounded them. “As you know, I haven’t unlocked my affinity yet. And while I did hear a bit about what you’re going through, I don’t think I should butt into what your faculty has planned for you.”

  Gad gave her an easy nod. She had anticipated that answer.

  The auramancers, and even the aethermancers tried to pipe in once in a while, had been discussing their affinities over the last couple of days. Tuk’s golden haze, as he called it, as well his worsening carelessness, Jaz’s increasing pranks, Tun’s growing anger whenever someone got hurt, especially from Row’s party, Cor’s growing difficulty in switching between states of being… Joy of life, manifested through light, the jokester, protection and retribution, and momentum. There was no denying the obvious anymore, and that was that affinities had a way to affect, perhaps even change, the person that unlocked them. The debate now was whether that change led people into becoming different, or if it simply enhanced, or liberated, whatever was inside them already.

  The auramancers were split on it, and, surprisingly, so were the aethermancers. In all honesty, this was a development that had shocked Gad, though she kept it hidden behind her usual composed and unreadable all-black eyes. She had come to believe that Eum’s bloodthirsty aether and Era’s sleep aether had both changed who they fundamentally were as people. Even Mach, who now had to be almost hand fed by Era as he continued to shut down due to the lack of any movement in the air, was a perfect example of this.

  But Gad hadn’t expected the same to happen due to their affinities, even if there was an argument to be made that auramancers were the ones who unlocked their own affinities. The aethermancers chose their patrons, true, so they knew roughly what element and what kind of path they would be getting. But it was up to the spirits they bonded with to decide what paths they granted, which elemental aether, if the spirit commanded more than one, and how said aether would manifest. As an example, both Eum and Medis were contracted to spirits of the hunt, under the Great Hunter-God Tygars, but between Eum’s blood craving, violence melee combat centered path, and Medis’ [Prowl], patience rewarding long distance fighting style, there was a Nexus of a difference… And neither of them had had any say on it, nor on what skills they unlocked. And they never would.

  Elements and affinities. Different, but perhaps the same? The tank wondered. Maybe the only difference is that our affinities are the aspects of our own souls, while their elements are the aspects of their patron spirits. But does that really explain why we have so much flexibility and capacity to build our own paths?

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  She shook her head. This was the sort of thing best explained by the faculty of the Aura Hall.

  “And you?” Sej asked, cracking the silence that enveloped them. “Have you felt any changes?”

  That too, Gad had been considering over the past while.

  “I am not sure,” she said. “I’ve grown to have a better handle over the flows of battle, being able to direct the enemy wherever I want.”

  Sej nodded. “Your control was perfect when we fought the nightmare. You’re even able to open gaps through the enemy now.”

  “Yes.”

  “But?” Sej asked.

  “But it doesn’t feel… enough,” Gad said, frowning. “Is flow just the control of aggro and nothing else? I don’t think so. I don’t believe so. I know inside me that there’s more. More aura, a bigger flow, a different flow… a deeper flow. Wider too.”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  “Not to me,” Sej agreed. “But, you’re probably onto something, though that’s as much as I’ll say.”

  Gad turned to stare at the blue skinned guide, now just an outline in black and white. They had come far from their days of flat lines and black faces, and their [Dark Vision 3] passive skills now gave volume to their dark sight, and even filled in lips that moved and empty eye sockets that blinked. She could see the slow falling bone dust, even if just as little white dots. Perhaps, as their skill continued to improve, they would one day be able to see with as much detail in the dark as they did in the light.

  “Thank you,” Gad said, after a moment. “Sometimes it feels… maddening.”

  “I look forward to it,” Sej said, in a flat tone.

  “It will happen,” Gad said.

  “I know.”

  And with that, they fell back into silence.

  Maybe the truth was always in front of us. In Mul, Gad thought, watching the white dots drifting by on their way to the smothered ground far below. We assumed that the issue was that his anger triggered his skills, whether he wanted to or not, hence why he needs that suppressor. And while that is indeed an issue, didn’t he get those skills because of his affinity? And when and how did he ever choose anger as his affinity? Isn’t it because of his screwed-up upbringing?

  In the end, did their souls choose their own affinities, or were they a result of all the external inputs and everything an auramancer went through in life?

  Too late to be having these sorts of thoughts, Gad thought, exhaling discreetly.

  And then there was Kur. Even when paralyzed by his fear and indecision, in the face of the overwhelming enemy he had uncovered in the spreadsheets that his Guild Affairs module had provided him with, was his affinity not hard at work still? What was his position, as third, neutral faction in the Circle, who could sway discussions to either side thanks to all his supporters in the other factions, if not a reflection of his to make a difference affinity manifested as influence.

  It was hard to shake the thoughts away. Or perhaps, she should be honest with herself and call it what they were. Concerns.

  This will matter in the future, she realized. A lot. I just don’t know how yet.

  A howl pierced the silent darkness.

  It rose in crescendo, as though a beast sought to wake up the entirety of the Jungle of Silence, and Gad pushed out her senses, searching for meaning in them the way Jul and Sej had been teaching her to. But before she could rise to her feet, ready for combat, the guide placed a gentle, but firm hand over her thigh, and held her in place.

  “Everyone quiet. Nobody move,” Sej whispered into their chat.

  And that was when Gad realized that what she heard was not a howling beast. It was a person. Screaming.

  More screams joined the first, until it sounded as though the whole jungle rang with them, and as though whatever was going on, was happening right next to them.

  “It’s close,” Sej whispered, as though she had read Gad’s mind. “Too close. Don’t. Do. Anything.”

  “We really can’t help?” Row whispered back.

  “We can’t do anything,” Sej said, her hand still on Gad’s thigh as the screams continued in the darkness. “We can only hope it won’t find us.”

  Gad unclenched her jaw, lest the sound of her grinding teeth and taunt tendons be enough to give them away to the Quiet.

  She pushed her senses harder, seeking to derive deeper meaning from them. Rather than a clear picture and control over her immediate surroundings through her [Awareness], as she usually did during combat and as she was teaching Nar in how to better use his own [Awareness] to the same effect, she looked for her [Hearing] only. Focusing. She had joined Nar in learning from Jul and Sej in trying to make better use of her more further reaching senses as well, since her own senses had grown tremendously during her time in the Brightnight. She knew that her sense attributes would form the backbone of her controller’s path, too.

  But all she heard was the screaming. The panic. The begging. The pleading… There was no sound to indicate the presence of the Quiet. Nothing that betrayed their position, number, the way they moved or what they even looked like.

  There were just people screaming. And one by one, the screams were snuffed out, until at last there was just a single, quiet sobbing left behind.

  “Please… Please… I don’t—”

  And then even that was gone.

  And there was only silence once more, and gentle, falling bone dust.

  “Be still for now,” Sej warned them. “It might still be around.”

  With that, she finally removed her hand from Gad’s muscular leg, but the tank remained where she was, as though frozen in place.

  Journeys have ended tonight, the morsvar thought. If they made it all the way here, they were strong enough to go through everything this dungeon has thrown at them so far. But this Quiet is an enemy you cannot fight.

  Her heart clenched, squeezed by unseen, but very real, crushing hands.

  Is this what Kur feels, because of his statistics? She wondered, closing her eyes. That no matter what he does, or tries, or how much he struggles, that in the end it will be for nothing? That some of us will really die, or be forced into retirement due to grievous wounds that cannot be healed?

  “What just happened, and what we were just discussing the other day, would I be right in thinking that everyone’s in favor of just getting through this place as fast as possible, and we instead go level up in the Den?” Kur asked in the chat.

  Both Leon and Row were quick to agree, speaking for their parties. As for Kur’s party, Kur hadn’t really been asking a question.

  Thus it was agreed that they would move on and level up in the Den instead, which had a similar level range to the Jungle of Silence.

  Later that night, as Gad lay awake in her mattresses, just as most of them did, with the screams of what most likely had been an apprentice party from the Scimitar still echoing in their minds, the morsvar wondered if perhaps she had been too harsh with Kur. Maybe she hadn’t tried to actually understand his point of view, because she fully, and flat out refused to believe that there was nothing they could do to improve their chances at beating the odds.

  She had refused to believe that her party’s fate could be predicted by those lines of text and numbers, organized in neat cells and rows… But what if she was wrong?