Date: June 18, 541 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Valtorn's gravitational pressure seemed to have thickened overnight, turning into an invisible jelly that resisted every movement. Dur woke up because his own arm, thrown behind his head, felt like a log filled with lead. His 1st-level Energy worked non-stop, maintaining muscle tone. Regeneration had dealt with the ache in his lower back overnight, but a slight numbness in his joints remained—his body was still adapting to the world's weight.
Divilla waited for them at the entrance to Somn's private quarters. These quarters were strikingly different from the rest of the fortress. There was no bare stone and smell of burning here. Behind the heavy oak doors lay a hall furnished with carved furniture made of rare dark wood, and the floors were covered with plush carpets that stole the sound of footsteps.
Commander Somn was discovered in the center of the hall on a monumental bed, the headboard of which was decorated with the finest carvings depicting sleeping dragons. He was wrapped in three layers of blankets made from mountain llama wool—fluffy, warm, and incredibly expensive. However, his head rested on a huge pillow, from which emanated a barely perceptible frosty steam.
"Ah, it's you..." Somn sat up, hugging his pillow. His face looked relaxed, but his eyes still held that strange depth that betrayed him as a 6th-level practitioner. "Maël, my boy, come closer. You're vibrating with tension. Your father, Ma Rat, was always too impetuous, like a whirlwind. But a whirlwind quickly runs out of breath if it doesn't know how to become still."
Somn beckoned Maël with his hand. He obediently approached. The Commander touched the heir's forehead, and Dur saw Maël's shimmering Energy calm for a moment, becoming even and deep.
"You need to learn to sleep within battle, Maël," Somn murmured. "And you, Dur..." he shifted his gaze to the young man. "You're like a cool pillow. Dense, reliable, but too prickly. Your Energy Development is going in the right direction, but you fight gravity, instead of making it part of your sleep."
Somn yawned, and the hall became so quiet for a moment that Dur heard his own heartbeat.
"Divilla said you need practice. In the Iron Gullet, there's a place I call the 'Echo Chamber.' It's an old mine under the foundation of the main wall. There, Valtorn's gravitational threads are knotted together. They twitch, they make noise, they disturb my rest."
The Commander pulled a hand out from under the blanket and pointed to a door in the corner of the hall.
"Your task is to go down there and spend twelve hours. You are not to fight. You are simply to... resonate. Your 1st-level Energy must enter into resonance with the gravitational noise and neutralize it. Make it quiet there. If I sense even one sharp surge—I'll send Divilla to flog you with her spatial whips right there, in the dark."
The descent into the "Echo Chamber" was like plunging into a deep well filled with liquid cast iron. The lower they went down the spiral staircase, the stronger the pressure became. Dur felt his 1st-level Energy begin to vibrate, resisting the chaotic jolts of gravity. Here, the weight of objects changed every second: one step felt light as a feather, the next—heavy, as if a boulder had been placed on your shoulders.
The chamber itself was a circular hall, hewn from the bedrock. The walls here shimmered with inclusions of metallic ore, and the air hummed like a giant transformer.
"This is the 'noise' he was talking about," Maël struggled to move his legs. His Spirit of Adaptability darted about, not knowing which weight to adapt to.
"We mustn't fight it, Maël," Dur sat down in the center of the hall, crossing his legs. "Somn said: 'make it quiet there.' We have to become part of this gravity."
Dur closed his eyes. He focused on the Development of Energy within his Vessel. Usually, he densified it, making himself an immovable anchor. But now he tried something different. He allowed his 1st-level Energy to vibrate in time with the hum of the walls.
It was agonizing. Dur's regeneration worked at its limit: vessels in his muscles burst from the mismatch of rhythms, and then instantly recovered, adjusting to the new frequency. It was a process of endless micro-adaptation. His body intuitively, guided by that same "fish" or "beast" logic Somn had mentioned, sought a point of stillness in the epicenter of the storm.
Maël sat opposite him. His face was contorted with concentration. His Spirit began to slowly synchronize with Dur's Energy, using him as a tuning fork. Gradually, the chaotic jolts of gravity in the hall began to even out.
Several hours passed. Dur felt his Energy Development changing qualitatively. It hadn't become stronger in terms of level—it was still at the 1st level—but it had become more "flexible." Its density was no longer frozen stone; it became like the density of deep water, which can withstand any pressure simply by redistributing it.
Suddenly, Dur felt a presence. It wasn't Somn or Divilla. It was Valtorn's will, seeping through the stones. Heavy, commanding, it demanded submission.
"Sleep..." Dur whispered, not knowing why. The words seemed to tear from his Energy.
He directed his calmed, rhythmic 1st-level Energy into the floor. Maël picked up on this impulse. Together, they created a zone of silence, an island of stillness in the ocean of gravitational chaos. The hum of the walls began to subside. The pressure didn't disappear anywhere, but it ceased to be hostile. It became... natural. Like the weight of a blanket, as the Commander had said.
When the twelve hours were up, and they staggered up to the surface, Somn was already waiting for them at the exit from the mine. He looked remarkably alert, in his hands was a cup of a steaming brew that smelled of mountain herbs.
"Well done," Somn nodded to Maël, then shifted his gaze to Dur. "You've learned not to bite gravity back, Dur. That will save you a lot of strength in the future. Maël, your Spirit has become a little less like a frightened bird."
He handed them cups. "Drink. This will help your channels cement this rhythm. Tomorrow Valtorn will begin his main song—the great assault. But now you know that silence is not the absence of sound. Silence is when you resonate in unison with the world, even if that world wants to crush you."
Somn adjusted his beloved pillow and headed for his bed. "And remember my advice: pillows should be cold, and hearts—hot. Everything else is just noise."
Dur took a sip of the brew. He felt his 1st-level Energy flow through his body in a strange, deep rhythm. He was still weak compared to the citadel's veterans, but now his Energy Development had a depth it didn't have before. He had learned to accept the world's weight without breaking under it. And this knowledge was meant to save him when the Iron Gullet shuddered from the first real mortar strike.