The Silent Hall waited at the end of a long, winding corridor, its doors standing open like a yawning mouth.
"Behold the Silent Hall," Quillon's voice thundered down the corridor, "where no word, scream or prayer will ever escape!"
"He says that like it's a good thing," Juna muttered, ears flat against her skull.
She stood in the narrow Corner booth beside the door, one palm resting on a cold slit of clear crystal. Through it she could see the hall, a room of pure night swallowing the lamplight like one long thirsty throat.
She rapped the crystal with a knuckle, "A Corner Second, so I stand in a closet and watch you get stabbed."
"You're my Corner today, Mutt, try not to bite the crystal," Hajin said from the threshold, flexing his fingers.
"I'll bite whatever I like, Idiot, just mind your feet in there," she snapped, tail twitching.
"I picked you, you hear everything, even things that aren't there."
"Quillon says there's nothing to hear in that room, genius."
