The Silent Sisters were a nameless bunch.
They didn't even walk.
They glided, moving in perfect unison, with their feet barely touching the surface of the sludge.
And where they walked, the sound died.
The wind stopped howling. The bubbling of the swamp ceased.
Even the distant hum of the city faded.
They projected a field of absolute Null.
"They're erasing the noise," Zane realized. "They're trying to clear the static so the Seraphim can fire."
He looked back at the stage.
The ghosts were agitated.
Their screaming was being dampened by the approaching silence.
[...quiet... too quiet... can't speak...]
"They're countering my defence," Zane said. "If they get close enough, they'll silence the ghosts, and we're exposed."
"I can shoot them," Wren offered, raising her scrap-bo
