The Silent: Irin Chronicles Book Five(7)

Niran stepped closer. “But you are. When I first saw you at the airport, I didn’t really believe that you were one of us even though Sirius had sent your picture. You didn’t appear to be in pain or cringing from people. When the cab drivers shouted at you, you simply walked away.”

“I couldn’t always do that. I used to hide from the world just like they do.”

Niran’s eyes shone. “My youngest sister, she reads books on mathematics that are beyond my comprehension. Her mind is beautiful and brilliant. She could do so much, but even going into the nearest village gives her seizures. Another sister is an artist so gifted she should study with masters. She has a gentle spirit and weaves the most intricate tapestries, but she cannot be around people without wanting to hurt them. We have a sister as fierce as any warrior in battle. She has tried to fight but cannot concentrate on her opponent. Anytime she is touched by a human—”

“The voices only get worse,” Kyra said. “I know all this. And you have to realize, this life I have”—she motioned to her suitcase—“this ability to travel, to be part of the world around me, it is very recent. Two years ago I was as sheltered as they are. My hearing is so acute that my own twin would have to leave me at times because when we’re together, my hearing amplifies.”

“Some would find a use for that.” Niran frowned. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“I’m not offended.” She wasn’t. Exactly. But there was some uncomfortable emotion that pushed at the back of her throat and caused her heart to race.

“But this new magic the Irin taught you—”

“It’s not new. It is ancient.” Kyra’s voice rose. “It is what we should have been taught for generations. What we should have learned from our fathers if they had any care for us.”

Niran stepped closer. “Did your father harm you?”

Had he harmed her?

Kyra’s throat tightened. She wanted to scream. Wanted to rage. She didn’t allow herself.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m over two hundred years old,” she said carefully. “Far older than most of our kind. Now that my brother has severed his ties to the Fallen, he and I will die. They have no reason to give us the magic that could keep us alive. I live on borrowed time, Niran. I lived two hundred years as a prisoner, and just as I am tasting freedom, my life begins to wane.”

Niran’s eyes flashed, but he did not speak.

“I want to do something important before I die.” Kyra looked into the trees and saw the shadow of simple houses hidden in the brush. Windows, like dark eyes, looked back through the forest. She could feel their eyes. Sense their curiosity. She was being watched. “I don’t need to rest. Give me a moment to wash, and then I want to meet your sisters. I can help them.” She’d never felt so sure of herself. “I know I can.”



The girl was no more than thirteen. Her hair was straight, black, and chopped short to frame a round, pale face. She didn’t spend much time in the sun. Her full, round lips pursed for a moment before she let out a long sigh and relaxed into Kyra’s arms. Her eyes were closed and her cheek rested on Kyra’s leg as she sang along quietly with the song the kareshta was teaching her.

“Emetsam tarrea me. Kul-me shayen ya-ohme.” Kyra sang the spell to a playful tune, exactly the way Ava had taught her.

Shut the door in my mind. Give me peace this day.

It was the simplest of tunes, and the spell only lasted for a few hours, but it was enough to get some rest. Enough to silence the worst of the voices. Plus it worked quickly. It was the first spell Ava had taught her, and the one Kyra started all kareshta with. More complex shield spells could come later.

To begin? Peace.

The girl named Intira breathed out in one long exhale and fell into a deep sleep. Kyra sang over her for a few more minutes, then she eased the girl’s head onto the pillow near her leg and moved away. This was the youngest of Niran’s sisters. The one whose birth, Niran told her, had given them the final push to break free from their angelic sire no matter what the cost.

As Kyra rose and looked around the room, she felt profound wonder. Complex equations, the likes of which Kyra had never understood, covered the walls of the room. White plaster covered by black charcoal pencil marks, as complex and beautiful as the intricate tattoos that covered Niran’s arms. She looked at the neat stacks of books sitting by the girl’s pallet and the rolls of paper she used to write even more equations. A star map covered one wall, and a telescope perched delicately in the corner. Constellations were drawn around the windows.

Niran watched the girl as she slept, disbelief battling with wonder in his expression.

“How long will it last?” he asked, staring at his sister.

Kyra nodded toward the door and walked out, slipping on her shoes before she walked down the wooden stairs to the gravel path linking the forest houses.

“That spell lasts only few hours,” she said softly when Niran joined her.

“A few hours?”

“I can teach her more complex spells once she clears her mind, and I can guide her meditation. Those spells will last longer. It’s obvious she’s extremely bright, so—” Kyra nearly fell over when Niran grabbed her hands in both of his and bent over, pressing his forehead to her fingers in a deep bow.