Chapter 1: The Frequency of Lies
They say that when you lose one sense, the others grow stronger to compensate. They call it a gift.
It isn't a gift. It's a curse.
To be blind is to be trapped in a cage of eternal night. But to be blind with my ears? That is to be trapped in a room where everyone is screaming, even when they aren't speaking.
I sat on the edge of my small, moth-eaten bed, listening to the rain battering the city of Oakhaven. To anyone else, it was just white noise. To me, it was a map.
I could hear the heavy, rhythmic drops hitting the pavement three stories down. I could hear the lighter, sharper taps against the tin gutter that hung loose on the neighbor's roof. I could hear the tires of a sedan screeching two blocks away, the rubber crying out against the wet asphalt.
My name is Dawn. Today is my twentieth birthday. And in a world addicted to light, I am the only one who truly sees.
I reached for the black cloth on my nightstand. The fabric was rough, cheap cotton, but I wrapped it over my eyes with practiced ease. It wasn't to hide my eyes—my eyes looked normal, if a bit glassy—it was to make others comfortable. People don't like staring at the blind boy. It reminds them that the world can be cruel without permission.
Knock. Knock.
The sound was hesitant. Soft knuckles against wood.
My heart didn't skip, but my ears perked up. I knew that knock. I knew the weight of the hand behind it.
"Come in, Elena," I said softly.
The door creaked open. The smell of rain and cheap vanilla perfume drifted in. Elena. The only person in this gray, miserable estate who didn't look at me like I was a broken tool.
"You're ready?" she asked. Her voice was bright, like a bell. But underneath the chime, I heard… something else. A slight tremble? A tightness in her throat?
"I'm ready," I said, standing up. I grabbed my cane—mostly a prop, honestly—and walked toward her. I didn't need to count steps. I could hear the displacement of air around the furniture. I navigated the room better in the dark than most people did with the lights on.
"Happy Birthday, Dawn," she whispered, taking my arm. Her hand was warm, but her pulse…
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It was fast. Too fast.
"You okay?" I asked, pausing at the threshold.
"Just excited," she laughed, but the laugh was thin. It didn't vibrate in her chest the way real laughter did. "I have a surprise for you. Come on. It's on the roof."
The walk was a blur of sensory details. The elevator hummed a low B-flat note that always gave me a headache. The lobby smelled of floor wax and damp coats. The street was a cacophony of life—shouting vendors, splashing puddles, the hum of electricity in the streetlamps.
I had grown up discarded. After my mother died—her humming fading into a silence that still haunted me—and my father followed her into the grave, I became "The Burden." Passed from relative to relative, then sold off to this estate as a housekeeper.
I was the invisible boy. The listener. The one who scrubbed floors while the rich masters discussed their sins, thinking I was too deaf or too stupid to understand.
But Elena… she had been different. She described the sunset to me. She brought me coffee when the winters got harsh. She made me feel human.
"We're here," she said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
We had arrived at the Meridian Tower. The tallest building in the district. The wind up here was fierce, whipping my coat around my legs, howling like a wounded animal.
"The roof?" I asked, raising my voice over the wind. "Kind of a strange place for a party."
"It's private," she said, guiding me toward the edge. "Just us."
She let go of my arm. The loss of warmth was instant.
"Dawn," she said. She was standing in front of me now. I could hear her shifting her weight from foot to foot. Nervous. Terrified.
"Yeah?"
"I… I wanted to tell you something. For a long time."
I stood still, gripping my cane. The rain soaked through my shirt, cold and unforgiving.
"I love you, Dawn."
The words hung in the air.
For a second, the world stopped. No rain. No wind. Just those words. It was everything I had ever wanted to hear. Everything I had been denied since I was fourteen years old.
But then, the world rushed back in. And with it, the truth.
I heard it.
Thump... thump... thump...
Her heart wasn't beating with love. It was beating with guilt.
And then, I heard the others.
Thirty feet away, behind the ventilation unit.
Scuff. A boot sliding on gravel.
Click. The distinct, mechanical sound of a slide being pulled back on a pistol.
Rustle. The fabric of a tactical vest stretching.
Three men. Heavy breathing. The scent of gun oil and tobacco drifting on the wind.
I froze.
My instincts—sharpened by years of survival—screamed at me. Run. Drop to the ground. Roll left. Strike Elena. Disappear.
I could have done it. I knew exactly where they were. I could map the trajectory of their bullets before they even fired.
But I didn't move.
Because she said she loved me.
Even if it was a lie… it was the only beautiful thing anyone had said to me in years. Everything I had been starved for—warmth, care, trust—I chose to believe it in that moment.
I chose to be blind.
"I know," I whispered, my voice breaking.
"Dawn?" she asked.
"I know you're lying," I said softly.
Her breath hitched.
"Do it!" she screamed, her voice cracking into something ugly and sharp.
SHHH-TUK.
I heard the knife before I felt it. The whistle of air, the tearing of fabric, and then the wet, sickening sound of steel entering flesh.
Pain exploded in my stomach. A hot, searing agony that buckled my knees.
I gasped, clutching at the wound. My hand brushed hers. She was trembling violently.
"Why?" I wheezed, blood bubbling up in my throat.
She leaned in close. Her lips brushed my ear. She smelled like rain and betrayal.
"Because you were in the way, Dawn," she hissed. "And honestly? It's pathetic. You really thought someone like me could love a freak like you?"
She shoved me.
I stumbled back, my boots slipping on the wet edge of the roof.
Bang. Bang.
Two gunshots rang out from the shadows. The impacts hit my chest like hammers, stealing the air from my lungs, shattering ribs.
The force threw me over the edge.
Gravity took hold.
I didn't scream as I fell. I didn't flail my arms. I just closed my eyes beneath the blindfold and listened.
I listened to the fading sound of her heartbeat.
I listened to the wind rushing past my ears, roaring a eulogy.
I listened to the sound of my own blood dripping into the air.
I was falling into death.
But as the ground rushed up to meet me, the sounds of the city began to distort. The wind didn't sound like wind anymore. It sounded like voices. Thousands of them. Whispering in a language that hurt my brain.
The darkness behind my eyelids turned purple.
And for the first time in my life… the silence spoke back.
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Next Chapter Teaser
Death is not the end. It is merely an invitation.
Dawn awakens in the Blivixis Gradient, where a cosmic entity waits on a throne of shadows.
The Pact is offered. The Inversion begins.