"The world remembers through echoes — and the Trails were never meant to stay silent."
— Fragment from the Harama Archives
The first sound came before dawn — a faint hum rising through the stone beneath Evalia's streets. The citizens mistook it for thunder. The scholars mistook it for memory. But to those who had walked the rails before, it was unmistakable.
The Trails were singing again.
Ken woke to the vibration beneath his quarters. The glass beside his bed trembled, rippling the reflection of his tired face. Rudhana's voice murmured inside him, deep and slow.
"The locks are remembering their shape… and the world is calling its debt."
He dressed quickly, meeting Kabe and Reka-sensei at the Citadel gate. The sky was heavy with grey clouds, yet every iron line along the city's rail glimmered faintly blue — like veins remembering blood.
Prince Qinglua awaited them atop the outer walls, his cloak snapping in the wind.
"The hum has reached Harama and Evalia," he said. "If the lines are reactivating, it'll spread to Durama's ruins next. We can't let the outsiders seize that connection."
Reka adjusted his gloves. "Then we'll intercept before it's too late. We'll travel south — Harama first, then trace the hum toward Durama."
Kabe frowned. "That's suicide if the rails are unstable."
Ken's gaze drifted toward the horizon. "Then we'll walk them anyway."
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Harama — The Academy Revisited
The forest path to Harama felt different. Birds no longer sang; the trees leaned toward the rail's hum as if listening. The once-peaceful courtyards of the Shinobi Academy now carried an uneasy stillness. Old bells hung at every corner, vibrating faintly with each pulse from underground.
Ayumi-sensei met them at the entrance. "We've been tracking the resonance for hours," she said. "It's strongest beneath the central courtyard — where the first seal stone lies."
The team descended into the Academy's underchambers. The air shimmered with heat. On the floor glowed the old seal, shaped like the first station's crest — a spiral mirrored in obsidian. But now cracks laced through it, spilling faint blue light.
Kabe crouched beside it, eyes narrowing.
"This symbol—it's the same as the shard from Kurogane."
Ken's jaw tightened. "Then the myths weren't just warning us. They're answering."
Suddenly, the ground trembled. A gust of air burst upward as the seal cracked further. From the fissure rose faint figures — silhouettes of ancient builders, repeating the motions of hammering invisible rails.
Reka whispered, "Echoes of the First Compact…"
Then one of the apparitions turned — its face hollow, but its voice perfectly human.
"You opened what we sealed. You are walking the same mistake again."
Ken stepped forward, his aura flaring faintly. "Then tell me how to stop it."
The apparition lifted its hand toward him, touching the edge of his spirit flame.
"Find where the first song began. The place where iron met grief. The Heart Station remembers."
Before they could ask more, the figures vanished — leaving only silence and the scent of burned stone.
Back on the surface, Kabe looked toward the western horizon.
"The Heart Station… they meant Durama."
Reka nodded grimly. "Then that's where we go next."
Prince Qinglua's messenger arrived moments later with a sealed order. The Council had spoken.
Mission Directive 12A: Investigate Durama's resonance. Recover any surviving relics tied to the First Rails. Do not engage unless provoked.
Ken folded the letter, eyes dark with resolve.
"Then it begins again… the Trail that never ends."