Junia's stomach growled, but she fed her little sister first. She was slow and gentle. She paused to wipe Millie's chin and made sure she could keep it down before giving her another bite. It must have been agonizing, having the food and denying it to herself before caring for Millie. Harrison and I both offered to help, but Junia was like every older sister. She couldn't leave it to someone else. With her mom gone, she had one responsibility in this world and she intended to fulfill it.

The thought tugged at my lower lip. Not enough to cry, or to truly throw myself into lamentations at my mistakes. But they knocked at the door, waiting for me to finish any business I might have. Waiting for my head to hit the pillow, my eyes to close, and my focus to have the time to attend to them in full. As Junia's own soup grew cold in the next room, I shook my head and focused on the man in front of me.

"So, how is the old man?" Harrison asked and I had to look down. I tried to tell him about his father but the words didn't come out, my jaw simply opening and half closing, as useless as it was quiet. They didn't need to, however. "I... see," he said after a moment. I looked up and winced as I saw the tension in his jaw. He had the body language of a man paralyzed but ready for violence. He made a fist and pressed it into the tabletop. His knuckles turned white and his eyes closed. I waited. I had nothing to say to comfort him.

It was several minutes before he spoke again, after sniffing and letting a stale breath escape. "So, why did Dad think you could help me? He wouldn't have sent you without a reason, even if you did want to stop this... whatever it is. He was happy to take care of his flowers until the end came. If he told you my name, something about you must have impressed him," he interrogated.

"I'm, uh, I'm a mage," I answered. "My magic doesn't seem to work on the victims of the Quiet, but... I'm not sure. I think it must be another mage responsible. I can't make any promises, and I don't know if I can do anything at all. But... he must have thought that gave me an advantage," I suggested and he ran his hand through his beard in consideration.

"Well, the suggestion that magic is responsible isn't a new one. But I can see why he'd send you my way. Magic is the only way to fight magic, after all. What's your focus?" he asked, indicating he knew more about magic than many others.

"Um... Time," I answered a bit awkwardly, and his tension released for a moment as his eyebrows climbed his head.

"Can't say I've heard of a time mage before. If we find this supposed 'other mage' can you go back and-" he started to hope but I shook my head before he finished.

"I'm sorry. It doesn't work that way. Or at least... I don't know how to make it work that way. I can... I can reverse time on something localized. Like a broken va- a broken glass or a wound or something. And only a little bit. An hour at most," I answered apologetically.

"Can you reverse the Quiet?" He immediately asked and I looked to the side, examining the wallpaper with more focus than it could possibly inspire on its own.

"It... It doesn't work. I don't know why," I answered and his face fell. Then, his jaw set in determination again.

"Well alright. Can you fight? If we find the mage you think is doing this to us, can you end this?" he pressured and I froze.

"L-like... I don't know. I don't know if I could win a fight, I'm not really that kind of mage, I just... I like magic, I like experimenting. I couldn't, um... end... anything..." I trailed off and he sat down, offering me little more than a hard stare. Finally, he sighed.

"Alright. How do you think you can help then," he asked and the familiar unfamiliarity of my skin warned of incoming panic. Of course he would respond this way. What could I do? Over his shoulder, a hateful glare followed me, its illusory eyes shifting in response to my every movement. I could trap us all in three days of misery forever. But the frustration in his eyes was justified. So what if I was a mage? I didn't even know how my own most powerful spell worked. That thought, however, gave me an idea. Not enough to banish the self-loathing slithering under my skin and wrapping around my throat, but enough to distract it for a while.

"I can help find out why. With enough information, I can understand the spell. I know, it's not as much as a better mage. I'm not like them. I can't offer what a court mage or a true master could. I'm sorry. You need someone better than me. You deserve someone better than me. But I can still understand it. It's not enough and I'm sorry. But... well, it's a step. It's what I can do," I offer and he clenches his fists, then releases them and buries his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I just... for a moment this didn't feel so impossible," he sighed. "I let myself hope when you mentioned your focus. That reaction wasn't fair. You're right. We need to learn what it is. I can help you with that. What do you need?"

I took a deep breath through my nose. "No. It was fair. But this is what I can do. For now, can you answer a few questions?" I suggested. He looked at me with concern, but nodded. I needed to understand something. Something that had been bugging me all day. I spoke in hushed tones so the girls in the next room wouldn't hear me. "The victims of the Quiet. How long have they been... moving, after they... or rather, does it happen to all of them?" I stumbled over the question and he looked grim.

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"Do you mean do they all move, or something else?" He clarified and I half opened my mouth before I realized I wasn't sure which the more important question was.

"Um, both, I guess?" I answered and he shook his head at me.

"They always move, yes. It's not always as fast. Some will stay frozen for longer, but as far as I know, every single one of them gets up and walks away, eventually," he responds, looking out the window as he speaks. "As to violence... I don't know. I haven't been there often enough when it happens. There is no way to predict it. But the last time I saw someone try to follow a victim... we know by now. If the Quiet takes someone, you let them go."

I began biting my nails as I thought. Every time someone talks about the Quiet, or rather, every time they mention a victim moving again, they confirm my worry. This had been happening for more than half a day. None of the bodies moved the first time. They had been moved, in fact. Which meant, somehow, this spell reached further back in time than it had brought me. No magic I knew could animate corpses either, which meant this had something to do with the other mage's spell.

"How long has this been going on?" I pushed and he shrugged.

"It's hard to say. They were just rumors at first, you know? Everything is just rumors at first. Just whispers and jokes. No one believes it until it happens in front of them. I guess I heard the first rumors a fortnight or so ago? I laughed it off. I mocked the man who suggested it. But it was five days ago. When it took my mother, I mean. That's when the rumors stopped being rumors, and how long this nightmare feels to me. But it must be longer for many other people." he lamented.

I crossed my arms and thought, completely focused for the first time in a long time. Looking back it's strange to me, how something like this could wake up that part of me. I was a wounded woman, and I never allowed myself to forget it. It was like a twisted ankle, where every step forward is a reminder of the time you stumbled. But like a sick child, I didn't notice the moments when those reminders started to fade. As a girl, I used to believe each illness would be unending. I would always have recovered for some time before I noticed the absence of the aches and the pains.

In Harrison's house, as I sat before a man with more to grieve than I, or at least more right to grieve, I didn't notice the numbing of my regrets. Instead, a little ember of the girl I had once been, the master mage who surpassed her teacher, glowed in the ashes. And with that, a little spark of my younger confidence came alive. It was a fragile thing. Enough to be extinguished by a breeze. But that's the funny thing about fire. Sometimes, the thing that snuffs it out can also be the fuel that spreads it.

"Alright," I finally said. "We need to do three things, as far as I can tell. Well, two things first to lead to a third. We need to know where people go when the quiet takes them. I don't have any tracking or illusion magic. So we need to follow someone. When I followed you- the last time I followed a victim, I was too careful. They disappeared into the Garden. There were no other exits I could find, but they were gone when I followed nonetheless."

Harrison flinched when I mentioned his father but said nothing. "I'm sorry, I don't know anything about that. The only person who would is... well we can't ask him. So, how are we going to follow a victim? Just wait around until someone croaks?" he scoffed, his dark joke falling flat. I immediately thought of Marcus and wondered if that's exactly what I should do, but... the hairs on my arms rose at the thought. I had done exactly that to Harrison's father that morning and the realization of it had slapped me across the face when I saw the corpse.

Then, a realization hit me. "Shit," I whispered to myself and he rose an eyebrow.

"What?" he immediately asked, his eyes shooting to the young girls in the other room.

"Not that, sorry," I dismissed, "It's just that... well it's been happening more frequently right? Like it's speeding up? I was thinking we may not have a choice but to witness one soon, but..." I trail off but his eyes widen in understanding nonetheless.

"What happens if it doesn't stop accelerating you mean, if they are violent?" he guesses and I nod. I knew better than he did, in just a few days, every man, woman, and child in the city would be dead. And if they all walked away a few moments later, or worse, if they all became violent... My face paled as I pictured it.

"It won't be long before it starts happening in public, in crowds," I whispered and he looked at me sharply.

"How do you know that? More frequent rumors shouldn't be enough to-" he started but I cut him short.

"I just do," I answered quickly, dismissing him as my focus faded and panic started to set in again. I couldn't let it. I didn't have time for it. I started counting out loud, under my breath. "Two red dish towels. One red pot. one red shirt. A red ribbon around Junia's wrist. One, two, three, four, five. Two red dish towels..."

"What are you doing?" Harrison gently probed, placing one hand on my arm. I tensed, I hadn't even noticed him standing.

"Please don't touch me," I begged quietly, "I don't like to be touched." He pulled his hand away and I closed my eyes, trying to center myself. The intrusion had been unwelcome, but it had banished the images of the upcoming slaughter from my mind, for the moment. I held my hands up around my head for a moment then opened my eyes. I wasn't back yet, not all the way. My body still felt foreign, like I was looking through someone else's eyes and processing their movements.

But I wasn't all the way gone. I tried to refocus. Regain the brief confidence I had been leaning on. "You're right. Following someone will have to be an act of opportunity. Which means we have to start with something else. Gathering information," I finally said, the sense of purpose helping me find myself again. "We have to track down these rumors. That we can do now, and the other part we can do later."

Harrison nodded. "Fair enough. That's what I have been doing so far, no reason to stop now. I have a few more leads on that front, I can show you around but..." he looked over at the girls. Right. We can't leave them alone. They deserve to have someone looking after them. I sighed.

"We'll have to go in shifts, one person at a time," I suggested and he nodded.

"Nothing to be done for it, but I suppose a new set of ears will help. What's the third thing?" He asked.

"It's simple enough. We need to figure out how the spell works. From everything I know about magic, it should be impossible to cast a spell like this remotely. But I think that's exactly what they are doing. Once we know how we can figure out how to stop it," I explain.

"I'll have to leave that to you," he apologizes, "I haven't the foggiest how any of that works." I nod.

"I understand that. But that doesn't mean you can't help. For instance, do you know of a man named Matthew Cross?"