The Hush

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The people of Areeott have always understood that they are not alone. Not in the way that one might think, with crowded cities and bustling markets, but in a deeper, more unsettling sense. There are things in the world that do not belong to any nation, do not follow the laws of gods or kings, and do not speak in voices that can be trusted. The people call them the Hush, though no one can say where the name first came from. It is a word spoken carefully, a name that is meant to quiet rather than summon, for everyone knows that to speak too clearly of something is to draw its attention.   The Hush are not ghosts, though some have mistaken them for such. They are not demons, for they do not barter, do not tempt, do not desire worship. They are not fae, though many share the cautionary habits of those who have dealt with such creatures. Instead, the Hush are something older, something that has always been here, something that watches from the quiet places of the world. They do not seek the company of mortals, but when noticed, they do not easily leave.   The oldest stories say they are the remnants of things that never quite belonged. Some claim they are lost gods, left behind by those who have long since stopped calling their names. Others say they are the echoes of promises broken so completely that the world itself refused to forget. There are even those who believe that the Hush are the weight of old magic, pressed too deep into the land to ever truly fade, surfacing only when the moment is right. No two people tell the same tale, but all agree on one thing: once you have seen the Hush, they have seen you in return.   A traveler lost in the mountains may find themselves on a road they do not remember taking. If they are wise, they will not stop walking. If they are foolish, if they turn and look behind them, they may see a figure standing between the trees, just far enough to be unclear. It is watching. It does not move. But if they blink, if they turn away for even a moment, it will be closer. The roads of Areeott are not always what they seem, and those who wander too far from the known paths sometimes come back changed, if they return at all.   The Hush are not bound by form, at least not in a way that makes sense to those who see them. Some of them wear the shapes of people, but not well. Their heads tilt too far to the side, their mouths move before their words catch up, their eyes do not follow a conversation in the way that eyes should. Others wear the skins of animals, but no animal that belongs to this land. Their fur is too pale, their limbs too long, their movements too smooth. And some take no shape at all, just a presence at the edge of sight, a whisper when no one else is near, a breath against the back of the neck in a room that is meant to be empty.   The people of Areeott know better than to ignore the old rules. When a name is called from the trees, no one answers, for if it is truly someone they know, they will come closer. When an unfamiliar road appears between two familiar landmarks, no one takes it, because they know it does not lead where it claims. And when a traveler arrives in town with vacant eyes, speaking in a voice that does not quite belong to them, people look to the priests, to the cunning folk, to those who understand the things that exist beyond the veil of certainty.   There are signs that a place has been touched by the Hush. Candles flicker in rooms where there is no wind. Water holds reflections that do not quite match the people looking into it. A house that was abandoned for decades will suddenly show signs of habitation, though no one can say who lives there now. The air will grow thick with silence, not the peaceful kind but the waiting kind, the kind that feels like something else is listening, just beyond what the ear can hear.   Outsiders call it foolishness. The scholars of Avindor dismiss the Hush as a collection of superstitions, a means for an insular people to explain the fears of the dark. But the people of Areeott do not argue. They do not need to. Whether or not an outsider believes is of no concern, because the Hush believe in them. And sooner or later, they will learn.   There are no prayers to keep the Hush at bay, no charms that guarantee protection. They do not ask for offerings, do not demand worship, do not make deals. They do not need to. The only rule that matters is the one that is the hardest to keep—do not notice them. Do not speak of them too clearly. Do not acknowledge them when they stand too close. Once you have done that, once you have let them into your mind, they will never be far from you again.   The Hush have always been here. The people of Areeott have simply learned how to live around them.  

From The Corner of Your Eye

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The Hush are not a single kind of being, nor do they have a single purpose. Some appear to watch, others seem to listen, and a few wait for something unknown. Each one is shaped by something that came before, whether it was a life half-remembered or a mistake that never faded. The people of Areeott do not speak of them directly, but those who have encountered the Hush know the differences well.   The Borrowers are the easiest to mistake for something ordinary. They look human at a glance, wearing the shapes of men and women, but never convincingly. Their smiles do not quite match the mood of the room, their hands linger too long over objects that do not belong to them, and they move with the slow patience of something that does not expect to be noticed. They are drawn to loss—abandoned homes, places of grief, or families where sorrow clings like dust in the corners. Some say they take only what has already been forgotten, while others insist that if you leave them long enough, they will make sure something is missing.   The Night-Faced Ones have no such illusions of humanity. Where their features should be, there is only smooth, empty skin. They do not speak, nor do they react to being spoken to. They simply stand at the edges of places where truth has been buried. Some claim they are drawn to lies, appearing where deception has shaped the course of events, watching as if waiting for something to unravel. Those who see them often find themselves struggling to speak honestly in the days that follow, their own words turning against them, though no one knows whether this is a curse or simply the result of having been noticed.   The Hushed Hunters are rarely seen, though their presence is often felt. They take the shapes of animals, but never the kind that belong in Areeott. Their fur is too pale, their limbs too long, their movements too slow and too deliberate. Travelers who have glimpsed them say that they do not chase, but they do follow. Footsteps that were not there moments ago will appear alongside one’s own, and when night falls, there is always the feeling of breath too close behind. Those who have been followed by them do not always disappear, but it is said that they are never quite the same after.   The Beckoners do nothing but wait. They appear along roadsides, standing just at the edge of the path, raising a hand as if to call someone forward. No one knows where they lead. Those who have followed them do not return, and if they do, they are unable or unwilling to speak of what they saw. Most people know better than to acknowledge them.   The Hollow-Walkers are less aware of those who see them. They are not individuals, but echoes of something old—memories that have taken shape, playing themselves out over and over again with no one left to witness them. A woman standing by a door that no longer exists. A soldier marching down a road long abandoned. They do not react to being seen, nor do they change their path. But the people of Areeott know better than to interrupt them, because if they realize they are being watched, they may try to take someone with them.   The Shadow-Lost were once people. Whether they stepped off the wrong path, made a mistake that could never be undone, or simply walked too far from where they belonged, they have become something else. Thin, stretched, hollow, they linger at the edges of places where the world feels thinner. They are drawn to warmth, though they no longer understand it. They do not cause harm intentionally, but harm follows them all the same.   The Echoes of the Shattering are the most difficult to define. Some believe that when the world broke, it did not do so cleanly. It left behind fractures, places where reality frayed, and the Hush that come from these places are not spirits, nor lost souls, nor creatures of any known kind. They are remnants of something that should not exist, and when they are near, things begin to come apart.   No one can say how the Hush came to be, or if they were always here. Some believe they are the remnants of people who vanished, those who walked the wrong road or wandered too far. Others say they were gods once, abandoned and forgotten, their names lost while they lingered. Some whisper that they are mistakes—things that should not have been allowed to happen, or things that should have faded long ago but never did. The people of Areeott do not ask. They do not speak of the Hush without reason, and they do not try to understand what was never meant to be understood.   There are no wards against the Hush. No charms, no prayers, no rituals that guarantee safety. They do not ask for offerings, nor do they demand anything in return. They only take what is freely given, and it is all too easy to give something away without meaning to. A glance held too long. A step taken on a road that was not there the day before. A door left open after dusk. Once they are noticed, once they have been let in, they do not leave. That is why the people of Areeott do not try to explain them. They only try to live around them.