The Dissonance

Lyra stood up. The wind whipped her hair across her face.

She looked at Orien. She loved him. It was a feeling so big it hurt her chest. It was a feeling that didn't fit in a silent scribe.

She opened her mouth.

She didn't try to sing. She didn't try to form words.

She poured all the pain of her silence, all the fear of the Ward, all the love for the broken angel on the ground, into her throat.

She pushed.

And the silence broke.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

It wasn't a pretty sound. It was a crack. It was a shriek. It was the sound of a window shattering. It was raw, grating, uneven Dissonance.

The Arch-Judge recoiled, clutching his head. The Dominions wavered in the air, their harmonic flight patterns disrupted by the chaos of the noise.

The sonic boom of her scream hit the spears pinning Orien. The hard light, tuned to a specific frequency, shattered like glass.

Orien was free.

He didn't hesitate. He didn't lunge for the Judge. He lunged for Lyra.

He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into his chest.

"Now!" he yelled.

He didn't open his wings. He kicked off the edge of the cloud, hurling them both backward into the empty blue sky.

The Judge screamed in fury, but his voice was lost in the rush of wind.

They were falling.