Know We All... Hide We Also All

Do not ask what you wish to know.

Ask what now knows you.

For there are truths that, once spoken,

will never again be silent.

—THE BOOK OF ASH

Kye weighed the danger, but Billy's fate outweighed caution, a life possibly hanging in the balance for reasons only he seemed desperate to uncover. Hunched over the analytical engine, writing stick gritted between his teeth, Kye dove into the hunt for Haldan Bard. Guided by fragments and hunches, he stalked the digital alleys of Doozee. All he unearthed were crumbs. A sparse profile, a vague job, and a shadowy sliver of Haldan's world. Kye's ultimate goal was clear. Find the truth and save his friend. Yet, his conscience whispered a question he couldn't ignore: What truth could possibly be worth his soul?

Kye muttered to the screen, frustration bubbling beneath his calm facade. "Well, that doesn't help much," he said, the weight of uncertainty gnawing at him as he wrestled with the urge to keep digging. That nagging question lingered, mixing with the danger embedded in every finger push on the keeb. He tapped the writing stick against his cheek, nerves prickling. He knew he shouldn't do this. Warnings were clear. Yet, the Shadow Channel called to him like an addiction, its code-stream a mysterious black water licking at fractured docks, inviting him into its depths. Regret pricked. Old mistakes hounded him.

An image flickered. Together, sitting in the shade after working all day on Billy's house. Laughter filled the air like ash, Billy dousing him with water from his stein. The temptation was electric, irresistible. Danger lurked in every keeb-stroke. The thought of losing Billy forever snapped his resolve into place. No time to ponder consequences. Only the chance to save him. With a sense of foreboding, he reflected on his own truth. What revelation could justify the sacrifice of his own soul?

With newfound determination, he sealed the opticon with strips of tape, fear of the unknown coiled in his chest. A nervous chuckle escaped. “That should help. The more the better.”

Nerves crawled his skin. Silence pressed down. The flickering light made his home feel like a cage. The hum of the monitor grew louder, a constant buzz that mirrored the tension within. Every sound was swallowed, leaving an echo of stillness. The wires on the floor twisted like vines around his feet. It felt like the wall punched back, its surface worn smooth by desperation.

He forced his mind clear, eyes narrowing on the task. Reality blurred as he prepared to cross the threshold. Once more, he slipped into the Shadow Channel, fingers poised over the keeb, anticipating the single word. His heart hammered, each beat a drumroll of risk, then keebed:

UNTRUTH

The moment he did, his pulse stalled, as if his heart itself whispered a warning. The air felt thick, like the pause before a storm. Each beat echoed the risk he was about to embrace. The word flashed through the room, rippling like static in the air. The temperature dropped. Once more, the vision plate dissolved into the hooded figure. Kye was riveted by that single eye again.

“What is thy query?” it asked ghostly.

Kye entered:

Haldan Bard | status? | FringeNets //(untruth).@

The keys clacked harshly beneath his fingers, each press a stark reminder of the fragile present.

Then waited.

A whir filled his eyes as images flickered to life on the glass, unraveling Haldan’s story in fragments. The scrivener dot flashed wickedly from the upper corner, each pulse a reminder of this fragile moment. Childhood grins smeared with mud, recalling laughter, lakeside joy with family, paint-stained aprons, the flashing pulse of the dot keeping time in the silence. Arms slung over shoulders in rain-soaked joy remembered against the ticking fan of the machine. A proud moment with Sharpe, Billy’s father, interspersed with the memory of finality in the room now falling to a hush. Each memory flashed by, then the funeral photo. Young Billy’s hand clasped in the man's, the full image, this time revealed. Truth now exposed.

Haldan.

The sequence cut through Kye, each a blade, stitched together the secret life Billy buried, or didn’t remember. Wonder, yearning, and betrayal wove together like a blanket. This felt raw. A wrapping reminder of what lay between them. This was the life Billy never shared. And Kye felt its weight settle on him like heavy wool.

Kye gasped. The writing stick slipped into his lap. He sucked in a quick breath as he tried to process the shock. His heart pounded. He went still. The reaction between the emotional and the physical act of the stick falling.

“Billy did know him,” Kye said to the screen.

The vision plate blanked again as the scrivener dot reappeared. Kye keebed again.

LOCATION: HALDAN BARD

The words pixelated, leaving only the relentless blink. Kye’s breath synced with its pulse. Each inhale and exhale echoed the silent countdown. As he clenched the writing stick in his fist, a bead of sweat tracked his temple with each blink, marking time. His throat tightened, like a clock ticking down to an unknown fate.

Time pressed close.

Seconds thickened.

Anticipation built with the rhythm of his racing heart.

Words raced across the screen.

LOCATION: CHARRED VALLEY... THE HOLLOW CHOIR

DESTINATION: THE WINDS

UNSAFE...

Then dissolved.

The dot pulsed. Kye tried to absorb the new information when a shrill, slicing screech shattered the quiet. It clawed from the machine, like nails on the screen. He recoiled. Heart pounded. The noise yanked him back to his childhood, hiding in the cog room at the Engines. His father hunted him after he accidentally destroyed his dad's datalog. In a chilling instant, the screech twisted into his father's voice, shouting his name, blurring the lines of time. This time, Kye fought against the fear. The screech was not just noise. It was a reminder to never hide again. It fortified his spirit as present and past meshed. The scrivener dot sprinted in a frantic rush.

YOU HAVE RETURNED,

DESPITE OUR WARNED PROHIBITION.

WHY DO THY TRANSGRESS?

Kye read the screen several times, trying to decide whether he should reply.

"I need to know more," he keyed and spoke.

The words slowly dissolved away. The dot appeared again, writing across the screen.

WHAT WILL THIS QUEST AVAIL?

Kye hesitated, his mind racing for an answer that balanced between desperation and defiance. "Maybe it won't, but someone has to try," he volleyed back, his words both shaky and determined. The screen flickered, absorbing his counter and retaliated:

YOU STAND AGAINST EMPIRIUM

KNOW WE ALL

HIDE WE ALSO ALL

THERE IS NAUGHT THAT SHALL BE UNDONE

Kye sat back in his chair, reading it again as the words started to dissolve.

“Wait.... Why did they have to die?” He hit the keeb as fast as possible, even as he spoke it aloud.

A moment passed.

THEY POSSESSED EXCESSIVE KNOWLEDGE

It dissolved quickly.

NOW YOU SHARE THEIR BURDEN

In the hush, the scrivener's dot tapped. A slow, merciless beat.

Hypnotic.

Inescapable.

Kye was captivated as each beat matched his own. Tension built. His focus tunneled to the pulse, a force that seemed to pull and push back all at once. The pattern made him still until the pressing question emerged larger than the sound, breaking his trance.

What truth is worth your soul?