"The bird in the cage learns silence first,
Then songs it never knew it knew.
When wind returns to whisper truth,
The door swings wide... and closes, too."
— Popular nursery rhyme, origin disputed
*Theo POV*
The house smelt funny.
Like something warm had been burnt - not firewood or tea, but somehow I could tell where the smell was coming from. I think it was the little silver phoenix statue mum kept above the stove - the one she said not to touch even though it never looked hot. It smelt like feathers and copper when it woke up.
Mother opened the door before they could knock twice.
"Come on in. Wipe your boots," she said, and I could tell from the way she spoke that she had known they would be coming long before she even looked out the window.
I peeked around the corner.
It was them - Richard and his parents. They looked different, just slightly. Not in their faces exactly, but more in the way that they stepped into the house. Like they weren't sure they had permission to step inside, though they used to come over all the time.
Rich kept his hands in his pockets and didn't look at me. Not even a glance. It didn't feel like he was trying to avoid me though - his mind must have been on something else.
It was probably the coin and letter. Mother told me that I was right - that Rich had his own one too. She probably scared something out of him. She could barely be gentle to her own son, let alone someone she's not related to.
"We cleared the inner room. There's also some tea for us all," started mother.
The inner room?
My heart thumped. Visitors never went to the inner room - that's where we kept all the scrolls and that big, black table that hummed sometimes when struck. I'd only ever been in there once - mother said not to touch anything, and I hadn't. But I remembered how the walls felt.. like they were holding their breath.
I stayed by the hall, shifting my feet. "Can I come?"
"You're part of this, too," she said. "Come along, Theo."
I followed them down the narrow corridor with calligraphy all over the wall. It looked different every time I looked at it, but now, it felt like there was something much deeper to it. Regardless, we carried on through the corridor and made our way to the room.
The inner room looked brighter than I remembered. Warmer, too. Maybe the lantern had been lit already, or maybe it just looked brighter when you were allowed inside.
The table in the middle wasn't black. I'd thought it was all those times I'd peeked through the crack in the door, but, up close, it was more of a maroon colour, with lines in the wood like veins. They shimmered a little when the light caught them, not shiny, but sort of... sleepy.
Mother poured tea from the silver pot she never used. It wasn't steaming properly - the air above it curled slowly, more controlled than any steam I'd ever seen. As though the steam was thinking about which way to go next, rather than just sporadically moving around.
"This room is sealed," began mother. "No one should be able to hear us here. Now's the time to confess if you brought any artefacts of your own, before they disintegrate I mean."
Rich's father nodded as though that made perfect sense.
"Everything enchanted is locked back at home. You can test if you want."
"I already did," responded mother. She always checked things before she asked. She was always very careful with those sorts of things.
Then, she turned to Richard.
"Anything you'd like to confess, boy? Any new coins, or dreams about coins?"
"N- no ma'am," whimpered Rich, the confidence he had always had seeming like a forgotten past. Just what did mother do to him to be so afraid?
I began running over to his side, to help him realise he wasn't alone. But, after the first step, I froze in place - I physically could not move over to him.
"Now, now, Theo. Don't make any sudden movements in here. You could set off one of the traps and really hurt yourself. Or them."
Mother was being so scary. I've never seen her like this. Was this even her?
I nodded stiffly and shuffled back in line with my parents, trying not to look too embarrassed about getting scolded in front of them. But the feeling of that invisible line - whatever it was that stopped me - still stayed in my mind. It wasn't like hitting a wall, but more like my bones had known better and refused to move me before I even touched danger.
I kept my eyes on the table and the glowing steam, and tried not to fidget.
Richard had gone quiet. His mother placed a hand gently on his back, but he didn't react at all. He looked like he wanted to disappear - not run, but just... not be here anymore. I didn't like it one bit. I didn't like the way my friend was shrinking, and I really didn't like how mother kept watching him like she was weighing up his soul.
"Let's talk simply," she said, sitting herself down on one of the chairs - the one with the strange carving underneath that looked like a bird in a cage. "That coin isn't cursed, but it is made to be feared. It wants to make you feel seen, Richard. Not just watched, but like your whole self has been turned inside out."
Out of nowhere, three coins appeared in the palm of her hand. It felt like they had come out of her ring, but that was impossible.
They didn't glow exactly - it felt like they started to breathe. A pulse, gentle but real, passed through the air and into me - into all of us.
"It's not listening now," said mother, peering at it closely. "But it will again if taken outside of this room. Whatever they used to anchor its gaze is above me - I cannot dispel it permanently, and can only temporarily seal it so that it won't alert home. It's too late for that, however."
Richard shuffled like he knew what mother was about to say.
"Rich's two coins already signalled something to someone out there. All we can do now is prepare and keep our boys safe."
I suddenly felt very small again. I looked up at the shelves to distract myself.
There were so many artefacts. Dozens, maybe hundreds, all arranged in neat, organised rows. Some I recognised - the blue glass orb that always spun when it rained, the hollow stone tablet with a crack shaped like a lightning bolt. Others I didn't at all. There was a stick wrapped in a green thread that moved by itself, a candle that flickered upside down, and a map that I could swear was calling to me by name.
The room felt alive, like a sleeping library. Like the objects were waiting for something, or someone.
A part of me wanted to ask about it. But a louder part told me not to. This wasn't the time for questions. Not with Mother like this.
She was pacing now - slow, careful steps around the table like she was orbiting something sacred. The grown-ups kept talking about cultivation and safety and how far a message could travel without paper. But I didn't follow all of it.
Until mother said, very quietly, such that the Pepys opposite us couldn't hear:
"The Verdant Eye doesn't take interest in just anyone."
The what?
I tried not to give anything away - not to let my face twitch. I wasn't supposed to hear that. I could tell. She hadn't said it like a name, either - more like a storm you don't want to name in case it hears you.
"Whoever it is... are they after him? After those two?" Richard's mum asked. "For their cultivation talents?"
"No," responded mother. "They think they are. But I don't think he boy has started cultivating yet. Can't sense Qi yet, right?"
Richard didn't answer.
His mother glanced at me.
"And what about your boy?"
"He's clean," said mother, very succinctly.
I blinked. That wasn't true. Not really. Not if the wind in my dreams meant anything. But I didn't say anything. Maybe she was protecting me. Maybe she was lying. Or maybe I really was clean and the rest was just dreams.
"Now, Theo and Rich, my dears. The adults have something very important to talk about, so could you go and play in the study for us? And whatever you do, don't leave the house."
They kicked us out.
Richard didn't say a word as we stepped out. I followed, glancing back at the three adults who didn't look like anyone's parents anymore.
Behind the closed door, I could still feel the coins breathing.
And I knew, now, that we were in something deep now. Something that wouldn't stop just because we left the room.