The air twisted.
The Seeker blew another silent note. A localized pocket of atmospheric pressure imploded three inches from Aden's skull, the vacuum snapping with the force of a thunderclap. Aden tilted his head, the shockwave grazing his hood and tearing a strip of grey fabric into confetti.
"You don't hunt with eyes," Aden said, his voice dropping into a register that mimicked the low hum of the earth. "You hunt with the gaps between sounds."
The blind man tilted his head, the white linen of his blindfold catching the faint starlight. "Sound is a lie told by the living to ignore the stillness. You are a canyon of noise, Aden. Your blood roars. Your heart is a drum of the Abyss. I don't need to see you; I can hear the way you displace the void."
