sovereign_of_wrath
patreon
Garden of Silk Ch18: Passage
🕑 Added 2025-10-23 05:05:22 +0000 UTCI slid the window shut after Azalea slipped through.
She landed on the rough stone floor silently red eyes blinking in the dim, dusty light. “Where are we?”
“The cellar, specifically under the disused east wing.” After a moment, I added, “We should be safe to talk here if we whisper. Cleaning is only done here in the mornings, and I doubt servants use this place to shirk their duties.”
“What do y—the duke’s family do to servants that shirk their duties?” She peered around the dry-rotted frame of an old wood storage area.
I frowned at her odd question and followed. “Nothing, so long as it doesn’t affect their work.”
“Does that apply for the whole family?” She stopped at the room’s single closed, iron-banded door and stuck an ear to it, nodding before plopping down right on the filthy floor.
“I… that’s a bit of a pointed question.”
“Is it?”
I sat down next to her. “Yes, in fact, it is. How my… how they discipline their servants is their prerogative.”
She hummed disapproval, and I was surprised when she changed the subject instead of pushing the issue. “How long do we wait here?”
“Until nightfall.”
“Why get in now and not after dark? We almost got caught in the garden.”
“Only because you—never mind. We—”
She cut me off “Oh no way. Nope. That was not my fault. I didn’t step on the twig and I am most certainly not the one who stuck her elbow out of the bush.”
“I would not have stepped on the twig had you not pushed me,” I asserted.
“I clearly signaled the left bush; it’s not my fault you went for the right one.”
“What was supposed to be the signal? A head nod? How in the mortal plane am I supposed to interpret that?”
“It wasn’t just a nod. There was a clear hand signal if you’d bothered to look.”
A vibration thrummed up through my body. Footsteps. “Someone’s coming,” I hissed.
Azalea pressed her ear to the door and turned back, eyes wide. “One,” she whispered. “Walking pace, lightweight.”
“Hide us there.” I pointed to the empty storage area.
Instead, Azalea pulled us just behind the door. Darkness swirled over us, and I cast threads across the floor just in case, invisible in the dark and dirt. In the past, when I’d hid from Shale or the servants in dim, dusty corners, I’d always wondered if the thump of my heartbeat would give me away.
Now, however, I stood like a coiled spring, hidden fangs itching, fingers on the web that wanted for several more limbs to puppet. Each breath was measured, each heartbeat subdued, calm. Silent.
I am not going to eat whoever this is. I am not going to ambush whoever this is; I am going to stay quiet.
Focusing on Azalea’s arms around my waist helped ground my thoughts. In my head, I reviewed the map of the estate. Every hidden passage was known to me, and none were here, right?
The door opened with no fanfare, and no trepidation. A servant I recognized as day shift cleaning staff walked in, carrying an oil lamp that flickered dimly. This room had no furniture, no smell of smoke, no real disturbance in the dust—her appearance here wasn’t regular.
We watched as she crossed the room toward the window. She reached up to the latch and froze. I’d left it unlatched.
She swore under her breath, turned, and looked around the room. We stayed still as she peered into the dark corner, eyes skipping over us entirely. As a shadow passed over the window, she jumped.
A face peered down, partially obscured by a guard mask, before she could hide. Instead of panicking, she relaxed and walked over to the window. For a moment, I wondered if I was watching some sort of secret tryst.
“The latch was open,” the servant whispered as she opened the window.
“Are we compromised?” the guard replied.
Azalea squeezed, holding me a little tighter.
“Perhaps. Don’t fail the delivery.” She handed the guard a slip of folded paper.
He took it in a gauntleted hand and stood back up. As he walked away, the servant closed the window again. Her finger hovered over the latch, but didn’t close it, and she slipped wordlessly out of the room.
“Ominous,” Azalea whispered after her footsteps had receded. “What do you think they’re up to?”
“Nothing good,” I replied, slipping out of her grasp. “I have her face—she must be a new hire. I think I’ve heard that guard’s voice before, but I know them less than I know the servants.”
“Why do you have guards anyway?” She stepped out of the retreating shadows, red eyes glimmering. “Isn’t guarding cultivators with non-cultivators pointless?”
“There’s only a few of us, not to mention all the servants who may need that protection.”
“Afraid your peasants will revolt?”
“Hardly.”
She snorted. “Seems like a pointless show of force then.”
“Perhaps it is,” I snapped. “Can we focus on our objective? And keep it in character.”
Azalea bowed. “Of course, your unremarkableness. And what might that objective be?”
“We need information on the bloodstone mine.”
“You’re using the word!”
“Do you want an explanation or not?”
She nodded.
“Then listen. Records for the mine should be with the others in the archive, or in the family vault. They are not. Meaning one of two things: there are no records kept, or they are kept in the duke’s study.
“Given the fastidiousness of Duke Graystone, it is a very safe bet they are kept in his study. They may be in a lockbox, and it is possible the lockbox has runes warding it. If that is the case we may have to search for something left out by mistake, although I may have a way in.”
“Didn’t you just say he was fastidious?”
I nodded.
“So let’s hope your way in works!”
My heart twinged. But the family vault still let me in… Was it because I was still myself, or because the demon was also family?
I carefully opened the door and Azalea and I swept through the cellar hall. We passed by no other servants until the first floor hallway. Her simple shadow trick slipped us past. At an intersection, I pulled us up on a silken thread where the floor offered no clear hiding place.
Once the pair of chatting servants walked past and we’d dropped, Azalea broke the quiet to whisper.
“How big is this damn house?”
“Sufficiently large.”
“More like needlessly large.”
“It is a statement.”
“Oh, that the nobility are better than the peasants?”
I stopped. “We are blessed by power and bloodline such that we may provide for, protect, and manage our populace. It is a duty like any other.”
“Noblesse oblige, huh?”
“Yes,” I hissed. “Do not conflate the prejudices of some nobility onto… the people here. Graystone Duchy has the highest standard of living for the peasantry in the Kingdom of Hearths, and were it not for our unfavorable climate, we may well be the best in the Empire.”
“Former Empire.”
“The Sects would contend otherwise.”
Azalea’s complaint died at the sound of more footsteps. Another servant, and one who thankfully did not look up. After the relatively close call, we continued on in hurried silence. Closer to the duke’s chambers, the servant presence was heavier, and I recognized more and more faces.
None seemed to gossip about a missing young master, so for now we had time. When I turned away from an ornate hall toward the kitchens, Azalea tapped me on the shoulder and tilted her head.
“Secret passage,” I mouthed. There was a more convenient one, but I’d rather take the older and more likely to be discovered passage than the true escape passage. This late, the kitchens were staffed only by three people cleaning.
Unfortunately, one person was cleaning near the entrance in the larder. We slunk behind a nearby counter and Azalea pointed at a pot perched across from us, partly over the edge. I threw out a loop of silk and gave a gentle tug.
Despite expecting it, the crash made me tense up. The three people jumped, and immediately began arguing over who dropped the pot. One was still facing toward the larder, so we crawled across the floor and inside.
I felt for the latch and tried to carefully open the door to the passage. Unfortunately, it was stuck. When I pulled harder, the scrape of wood on stone echoed clearly out of the room. If I weren’t Silk right now, I wouldn’t have been able to bend myself inside. And as it were, I had to pull Azalea through, and we managed to get the passage door closed just as three pairs of footsteps ran into the larder.
With a wince visible though her mask, Azalea rubbed at her chest. I looked quickly away, but when I looked back, she was cupping them. I hissed, and she stuck out her tongue before skipping ahead to the passage’s first corner.
I stayed behind and waited, breath held. From harried words and muffled shouts, the servants assumed a mouse, or perhaps a ghost. Enough deniability that we weren’t yet out of time.
“What was that about?” I asked when we reached the corner.
“It’s fun to tease you,” she replied.
I clenched my jaw, took a deep breath, and changed the subject. “Keep quiet. We’ll be inside the walls shortly, and it is very likely the duke will hear us. He’s Third Ring.” And not like Kobel was.
I could feel her smug smile, but she nodded and kept silent as we crept along. Until we passed a set of observation holes, that is. She nimbly hopped up on top of the rough wood step and looked through them, stifling a giggle.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
“I’m observing! There’s no one in this hall by the way—and am I looking out the eyes of a painting or something?”
“What? No, that would be incredibly obvious. You’re looking out of inset holes in the molding in a false column. It’s why there’s a wider part here and why you can see to the sides… You were making faces weren’t you.”
“And I went cross-eyed, too!”
“Azalea, this is serious.” Actual, real desperation edged into my voice despite my attempt to keep it out. “If we are caught, my life is over.” Valid for Silk and Slate alike.
“Hmm, oh, right.” She hopped down. “I guess it is.”
“How are you so flippant? Please, Azalea.”
Her brow furrowed as she looked me in the eyes. “Sorry.”
“What kind of a response—shhh!” I stepped up to the spyholes Azalea had just left.
“Wh—mmph!” Azalea’s whisper cut off as I stuck her chin shut with my silk.
It stuck to the mask when she tried to tear it, but her eyes widened as she finally heard what I did: rapid footsteps and shouting.
“The young master is missing!” I recognized my personal maid as she sprinted by, shouting for all the estate to hear.
To make it all the way here, she must have run…
“We need to go, now.” She might have heard me, but I didn’t care.
Azalea pulled her mask down instead of trying to fight my impromptu gag. “To your room?”
I froze, torn mid-step between which way to go. If I returned, I’d have to explain myself, and any goodwill I bought with Mother would be wasted. I thought of myself, head shorn and locked in my chambers, quickly going mad with hunger.
“Father’s study.” I turned and sprinted down the passage.
Azalea padded behind me and pulled on my shoulder. I wheeled, about ready to scream.
“We can still keep quiet,” she said with a lot more calm than I felt at the moment. “They’ll be looking for you, not us.”
I blinked and the silk on her mask disintegrated. “You’re right.”
“Always am!”
“Don’t push it.” I was far from in the mood for her playful smile.
Together, we bounded down the twisting passage until we reached the door to father’s study. Along the way, I felt a presence that sent a shiver down my spine and my damned instincts nearly froze me in place. Father. He was leaving his chambers, and headed for mine.
“See?” Azalea whispered once he was fully gone.
“Now we have even less time,” I shot back.
The secret pocket door stuck when I tried to push it quietly. With a loud rasping sound and a jerk of motion, I slid it the rest of the way aside, revealing the back of a bookcase with a lever to one side.
Pulling and holding it to release, I swung it outwards and motioned for Azalea to follow me into the room.
“Wow… behind the bookcase and everything,” she gasped. “That is so…”
“Focus,” I hissed. “He was here moments ago.”
I pointed to the lit oil lamp and more importantly to the pen that had missed its inkpot and the dark stain spreading over the desk’s finely polished wood.
Nothing had been left on the desk, so I checked the drawers. The unlocked ones just held stationery.
Azalea took one look at the lock and clicked her tongue. “I’ve got this. Check the safe.”
I watched her pull two wire paper clips out from the top drawer and stick them into the lock, tongue stuck out to one side in her mask. Then I turned and headed for the safe. It was hidden, but getting to it wasn’t difficult.
Immediately, I was faced with a rune and a lock. The vault’s method didn’t work and the rune flared angrily. I placed a hand on it. Please work!
The next thing I knew, I was across the room, ears ringing and both arms numb.
Azalea said something and pulled me to my feet. I reached for her, but my arm didn’t obey. She pulled me to the passage, but I shook my head.
“...ere then?” She was shouting, but I could barely hear her.
“Quiet…” I mumbled.
“Too late for that. Come on, we’ve got to go!”
I reached for her again, and this time I saw my mangled hand, skin-like silk hanging off it like a shredded glove. The safe was fine, but books and papers were strewn about. The once-locked door to the desk hung open, smashed.
Azalea’s other hand held crumpled papers as she grabbed me by both shoulders and shook.
I blinked, focused on my Garden, and slipped down into it. The place looked like a storm had swept through. Leaves and branches were strewn about, the pond, quickly draining, was choked with debris, and even the paths were mussed with detritus.
I sat cross-legged in the center, on the hill with the bone white, vine-wrapped tree, and focused. My spider-like limbs curled protectively around my body as I went through, plant by plant, fixing and improving. New growth, onyx-black flowers in a neat patch by the pond, took precedent. A new bloom for a new technique. Vitae burned away ever so quickly as my mind flitted from objective to objective, but in moments, I was done. And my mind was clear.
I surfaced as Azalea was pulling us into the wrong tunnel.
“To his bedroom,” I hissed, wincing as my broken fingers snapped into place. New silk spun around them, covering shining black nails.
“Are you insane?” she shot back, tugging.
By just a bit, I was stronger, and I pulled us out into the study in time to hear distant shouting. “There’s another passage, leads all the way out of the estate.”
Azalea looked at the way we’d come in one last time, bit her lip, and nodded. Oh, so now you care!
We slid into the hall just as two guards rounded the corner. At their shouts, we took off, darting around the corner faster than they could possibly catch us. Azalea pulled us into the shadows and I wrenched the door to my father’s room open. Immediately, we dashed inside and closed it, throwing the lock to buy us a few moments.
Inside was… just how I remembered it. It must have been ten years since I was in here, and everything was just a bit smaller, including his massive bed. Immediately, I moved to push it aside.
I remembered crawling under there with Shale, feeling around the grooves in the stone and wondering when we’d be able to make something just like it.
“Under the bed, really?” Azalea whispered as she pushed the bed’s other side.
It was massive, but not at all difficult to move with our strength. The actual challenge came after. The floor below was polished stone, fitted and locked into place such that only our family’s cultivation could easily open it. But to keep appearances, it was just mundane stone. Anything else would have stuck out or required sect expertise.
“Smash it,” I said, almost choking on the words.
“What?”
Shouts from outside reached the door. We were lucky they even debated breaking it down.
“It’s under here!” I kicked at the floor, cracking it with my heel.
Azalea fell upon it, smashing down with her knives like they were clubs. I stood, frozen for a moment before my wrist flicked and a glittering, onyx whip struck between Azalea’s knives. Like a reflex.
I didn’t need to tell Azalea to pull up the handle. We jumped down, and I turned as we fell, catching the bed’s legs with two threads and dragging it back over the opening. Shadows swirled from Azalea and we fell into darkness as the door crashed open above us.
At most, it would buy us a few seconds.
The tunnel was completely dark, its rough-hewn stone walls and floor uneven. I ran ahead, pulling Azalea along in the darkness, as the ground shook above. A shiver ran down my spine when I tasted familiar vitae in the air.
Father. Mother, too.
Pulling the bed back over the hatch had worked. Perhaps they hadn’t even been sure which room we’d entered to escape.
It didn’t feel real when we stumbled out of the hidden exit into the still nighttime forest. I blinked, adjusting to the bright-seeming moonlight and pushed the hidden door closed behind us, until it shut with a click. We stood with our backs to a shallow, unassuming rock face, and the deep forest splayed out in front of us, sloping down.
“We did it,” Azalea breathed.
I shook my head. “No, we have to hide further afield. They’ll scour the surrounding forest for us, they’ll search every corner of the town.”
“I don’t think we need to search that far,” tutted a deeply familiar, amused-sounding voice.
“Mother?” I said in pure reflex, before freezing in place. Instincts new and old aligned.
I strained my rigid neck to look up. Above our exit, Mother stood casually on a branch above us, leaning against the trunk. All I could do was stare as I realized how in this one moment, my life came undone around me like a million strands of silk.
Eyes like her namesake gem, perfectly cut and shining in the light, held me in place. She hopped down and circled around, inspecting me like a porcelain doll. Reflexively, my shoulders straightened, my chin snapped up, and a hiss died in my throat.
“I thought I recognized one of you, but the other…” She paused, eyes narrowing with… confusion?
“No one injured,” she said carefully, “no signs of forced entry. Profound knowledge of the layout and of”—her eyes flicked to the passage’s exit—“family secrets.” She chuckled. “Well now I suppose I’m quite glad I decided to talk before I killed you, intruder.”
I stared at death as she walked closer to me. I held my breath as she placed a hand on my shoulder, gently, like I would tear in an instant. A dozen thoughts swirled in my mind, excuses, explanations, pleas. They all died as I failed to match her gaze. Warm days spent in the garden, laughter echoing down the halls, nights by the fire, reading under a blanket.
“Or perhaps…” Her words were quieter now, softer. “I should call you daughter?”
A choking sound escaped my lips.
Her brow furrowed. “Quite advanced for First Ring. But he—you—would have the sort of tenacity to pull this off, wouldn’t you. Foolish of me to ignore all the changes I’d noticed.”
The dam burst, and in a wave of emotion drowning hazy memories, I let out a strangled “...What?”
“Show me what we’ve practiced.” Her hand rose from my shoulder and landed warm against my cheek. “Show me that I’m right, and you won’t have to die, intruder.”
Azalea squeaked. “S-should I—”
“Quiet.” Mother flicked a finger and a barrage of shining gems pinned Azalea to the rock face, neatly tracing her flesh to hit only clothing.
My friend whimpered.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I took a fighting stance. Mother raised an eyebrow and nodded, stepping back and dropping into a familiar, half-casual pose. A long, still moment passed, and I realized she was waiting for me to make the first move. All I could think to do was lash out, as hard and as quickly as I could.
I didn’t even see her counter. She gave me just enough time and hope for another strike, but my whips of onyx were struck out of the air. This time, I found myself sprawled out, staring up at the moon. Is this how I die?
Mother stuck a hand down for me to grab. Rather than take it, I stared at her unmarred, well-manicured digits.
“I can’t go back,” I whispered.
She bent down and pulled me by my shoulders up to my feet. I couldn’t look her in the eye. And when I looked down, the result was far, far worse. Black, sharp nails stuck through the shredded remains of my silken skin.
In an instant, Mother’s grip on my shoulders went from gentle to vice-like. A hand pulled my chin up sharply, nails cutting through the fraying silk. She looked me in the eyes, in my real eyes and breathed a sharp intake.
“What did you do,” she hissed.
“I…”
“Are you even my child?” Her voice wavered as her eyes scanned me, flicking around rapidly from point to point.
I whimpered, my vision blurring and swimming. What could I say to that? How could I ever even start to explain how utterly I’d ruined everything? “I-I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t be strong—”
The air crushed out of me as Mother pulled me tight.
“I… failed…” I choked out. “I can’t… go back.”
“No,” she whispered, so quietly that I was certain Azalea could not hear. “No, child. We failed.”
What?
“We, your father and I, wanted so desperately to believe you inherited our cultivation potential. We compromised, I compromised.” She swallowed hard, tears beading at the corners of her eyes. “And we pushed you too far.”
What could I even say to that?
She pulled back, still holding my shoulders, and failed to force a smile with tears running down her cheeks. “But you’re right. You can’t go back. The moment you enter the Sect’s land, they’ll strike you down. If you stay here, there will be questions… And I don’t know that I can make your father accept you.” She blinked to clear her tears and moved one hand to run her fingers through her hair. “I argued with your father for weeks, you know. About your clothing, your hair, your mannerisms. We agreed to keep the hair, and even then I had to remind him last night.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes. And the mine? That is our greatest shame. You visited him, didn’t you? That’s how you ended up like this.”
There was no question who she meant, the awful memories fresh in my mind. I nodded.
“But you are not him.”
“What?”
She smiled again. “You are not him. He did not escape through you; he did not take your mind.”
I remembered his voice in my head and shivered.
“That alone proves you are my child, that you are a Graystone, that you are strong, Slate. Not in the ways of power, but in the ways of the mind. You are brilliant, my child.”
I couldn’t blink away the tears now, and I fell forward, sobbing into Mother’s arms. She rubbed my back and hummed a song I hadn’t heard in years, since my nanny replaced her at my bedside. For a while, minutes perhaps, she held me.
“We don’t have much time.” Mother broke the silence. “I will find an excuse for this evening.”
“Say… that I was taken.” My voice was small and hoarse, cracking over every other syllable. “Don’t tell him that I ran away.”
“I will, Slate.”
“Silk.”
“Hmm?”
I looked up and finally met her eyes, two out-of-focus garnets. “I need a new name.”
“You don’t need one.”
I let the knot in my chest come undone in a painful burst of emotion. I choked back a sob and shook my head. “I… I want one.”
She rubbed my head. “Very well then. I… It’s a pity I did not get the chance to truly know my daughter.”
My heart skipped a beat, and a denial died in my throat.
Mother pulled away. “Go, child. I trust you are wise enough not to be caught in town.” She waved her wrist and released Azalea who stumbled to her feet. “And I trust you, girl, will aid my child as she needs and breathe not a word of what’s transpired.”
Azalea nodded rapidly, eyes bright.
As if on cue, distant shouting echoed from the direction of the estate as I stood and tried to find words for my final goodbye. Instead, I nodded, turned, and ran. Azalea pulled up next to me, and we didn’t speak a word until the night was old and my former home was leagues behind.
Comments
Sabrina Myers
I definitely think the pacing on this was off, another chapter or two of trying to hide could have really helped this feel more tense
Jayem
Wow, she went to barely hiding to completely exposed far quicker than I thought she would. Onto the next stage of the story! Best mother strikes again. Y’know I’m half convinced that trans individuals are a more well known phenomena in cultivator circles than first expected. Since it was mentioned the body slowly grows to match the soul through divine cultivation there are bound to be others who became more masculine/feminine through the tiers and because they’re powerful by the time the process finishes if they declare themselves one gender or another people have to accept that. Unfortunately there will always be people like Silk’s father, though he seems less a transphobe, and more someone who just has a very fixed idea of what amounts to an acceptable expression of power, in this case big muscles and throwing giant rocks, and the problem is that Silk’s expression of power is more in line with perfect control rather than overwhelming force. Hell if he had a biological daughter who grew to have big muscles and like punching things he’d probably be fine with that. Doesn’t make his transphobic ass forgivable and the end result is the same whether the cause is complex or not, but it’s interesting to think about the probable indirect nature of his ire. Yes! Road trip! Silk’s a little sheltered and seems to have a more idealistic opinion of the world so this will be a good learning experience.
