"The First Echo."
For a moment, the clearing was silent — unnaturally so. Even the wind refused to move.
Then the creature lunged.
Its motion was fractured, skipping like reality itself couldn't keep up. One instant, it crouched — the next, it was already in front of him. Kiyoshi barely raised his blade in time.
Steel met mana.
The sound wasn't a clash. It was a shattering — like glass breaking underwater.
The impact sent him skidding backward, boots grinding through ash. His wrist screamed. The blade flickered, its outline fraying like a static image.
"Fast," he muttered. "And unstable."
The Echo's body glitched — skin flickering between fur, scales, and glass. Its chest pulsed with a heart of lightning, veins crawling outward like roots of light.
Kiyoshi inhaled slowly. "Trace, on."
Light traced his fingertips, forming translucent blue lines. A short bow emerged, nocked with a mana arrow burning white-hot.
He exhaled. Released.
The arrow flew — silent, precise — but the creature blinked out of existence. It reappeared above him, claws wreathed in plasma, and slammed down. The ground erupted. Kiyoshi dove aside, rolling to his feet. Another blade materialized in his hand — thinner, longer, the memory of a weapon he'd once used but couldn't remember why.
The Echo came again.
This time, he didn't dodge.
His body moved before he decided to move.
Two steps forward — twist, parry, strike. Blades crossed in an "X," catching its claws. Sparks of white and blue danced through the air. He pivoted, slicing through the creature's arm. No blood. Just threads of light unravelling, fading into mist.
The creature's shriek warped the air. Trees bent, leaves peeled from branches.
Kiyoshi's breathing slowed. Something about the rhythm of this fight felt familiar. Like his muscles remembered something his mind didn't.
Then, time fractured.
The world stretched thin, the hum of mana slowing to a low vibration. Dust hung motionless in the air. His pupils dilated. His heartbeat echoed — distant.
In that split second of false silence, Kiyoshi saw everything.
The creature's next five movements, etched in light like afterimages.
The trajectory of his own breath, a cloud of frozen vapour.
The exact point its heart would reappear before it even blinked back into existence.
His hands moved without thought — tracing, slicing, pivoting like he was dancing through pre-written steps. To him, the Echo's teleportation looked clumsy, predictable.
But to anyone watching...
It looked like he vanished.
The Echo reappeared — and Kiyoshi was already behind it. Both blades came down in a blur of light.
The world snapped back to real-time — a shockwave rippling outward as his blades hit. The creature roared, collapsing as its core destabilized, blue lightning arcing wildly.
The heat under Kiyoshi's skin returned — that same pulse from the Trial. His vision doubled, whispering at the edge of his mind.
"Power unused is power wasted..."
He clenched his jaw. "Not now."
His materialized blades trembled, mana overflowing their form. He slammed both into the ground, forcing his will outward — fragments scattering like glowing embers.
The Echo charged one last time.
Kiyoshi raised his hand — every fragment responded, lines connecting midair into a massive spectral chain.
"Bind."
The chain snapped forward, wrapping the creature mid-leap, slamming it into the earth with thunderous force. The ground fractured, with light bleeding from the cracks.
Kiyoshi formed a smaller dagger — one patterned after Celosia's weapon — and hurled it into the creature's core.
Impact.
Silence.
Then — inversion.
A blinding white pulse erupted outward, the world washing out to static. Kiyoshi was thrown backward, crashing into a tree. When the light faded, the clearing was still again. The Echo was gone — nothing left but a glowing crater.
Kiyoshi rose, breath ragged. His reflection shimmered in the glasslike soil — eyes faintly glowing, air bending around him like heat distortion.
"That wasn't an animal," he murmured. "It was... mana. Shaped by will."
Celosia burst through the treeline, blade drawn. "Kiyoshi! Are you—"
She stopped. His presence hummed — the same rhythm as the creature's core.
"I'm fine," he said — voice low, steady... but not quite his.
Ceng-tae stumbled in seconds later, gaze snapping between Kiyoshi and the crater. "You killed it," he whispered. "Then it's begun."
Celosia frowned. "What has?"
Ceng-tae's expression darkened. "The Echos. Remnants of the Veil's collapse — fragments of corrupted mana drawn to unstable souls." His eyes lingered on Kiyoshi. "If this one formed here... Faelinor sits on a fault line."
The glow in Kiyoshi's eyes dimmed. He exhaled. "Then it's my fault."
Celosia stepped closer, firm. "No. It's our problem."
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"The Council of Ash."
Faelinor's great hall was quiet — too quiet.
The battle-worn scent of burned earth still clung to Kiyoshi's clothes as he stood in the center of the wooden chamber. The circular table before him was filled with faces — the village elders, guards, and Ceng-tae standing near the edge like a shadow. Celosia was beside him, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
A single candle flickered between them all, its flame wavering like it too could sense the tension.
Ceng-tae finally broke the silence. "The entity we encountered was not a natural monster. I've examined the traces — the mana resonance was corrupted, woven from residual willpower and fragmented aether." His voice carried through the hall like a verdict. "We're looking at an Echo."
A murmur rippled through the elders.
"An Echo? That hasn't happened since—"
"Since before the Veil collapsed..." another whispered.
Kiyoshi stayed silent, staring at his hands. They were still trembling faintly — not from fear, but from something deeper. Residual energy, still crawling under his skin like static.
Chief Hokuto — Celosia's father — leaned forward, his eyes heavy but sharp. "And what does this mean for us, Scholar Ceng-tae?"
Ceng-tae hesitated before answering. "It means the mana veins beneath Faelinor are rupturing. Something is disturbing the flow — possibly intentionally."
That last word hit the air like thunder.
Celosia frowned. "You think someone caused it?"
"I don't think," Ceng-tae said quietly. "I know. The pattern of corruption isn't random. It's... guided. Scripted."
He reached into his satchel and placed a small shard of crystal onto the table. The fragment pulsed faintly with black light, carved with lines that looked almost like scripture — burned into it.
Kiyoshi's head snapped up. "That mark..."
Ceng-tae nodded grimly. "It's the same sigil found in the ruins south of the river. And the same one that appeared after the Elder's death."
The room went still. Even the flame stopped flickering.
Celosia's jaw tightened. "You're saying this is the Pale Choir?"
A hush followed. The name alone carried weight — myth, rumour, curse. The kind of whisper that made even strong men avert their eyes.
Ceng-tae didn't answer at first. He just looked at the shard.
Finally, he said, "If they've returned, then this isn't just corruption. It's a resurrection."
One of the elders slammed their palm on the table. "We cannot spread panic! The village will collapse before the monsters even reach us!"
Celosia stepped forward, voice rising — not loud, but fierce. "Then we prepare. We warn the hunters, fortify the outskirts—"
"No." The Chief's tone cut through the room like steel. "We will not draw attention to this. Until we confirm their intent, we act as we always have."
Celosia's fists clenched at her sides. "Father, with all respect—"
"This discussion is over," Hokuto said, standing. "Ceng-tae, continue your research. Kiyoshi, rest. You've done enough today."
The elders began to rise and disperse, their hushed voices filling the air again. But Ceng-tae didn't move. His eyes stayed locked on the sigil shard — the faint hum of it vibrating against the table.
After a moment, he murmured, "They never should've been able to reach this deep. Not unless something — or someone—drew them here."
Kiyoshi's breath hitched.
Celosia turned toward him, reading his expression instantly. "Kiyoshi—"
He took a slow step back. "It's me, isn't it?"
Ceng-tae finally looked up. "I don't know yet," he said softly. "But they're drawn to imbalance. And whatever that Echo saw in you... It reacted."
Celosia's voice hardened. "He saved us. If anything, it should thank him."
"Intent means little to corrupted mana," Ceng-tae replied. "It feeds on potential, not morality."
Kiyoshi exhaled shakily. The glow from the shard reflected in his eyes — the same light that had burned through the creature's chest. "Then maybe I need to leave," he said quietly.
Celosia's head snapped toward him. "What?"
"If they're after me," Kiyoshi continued, voice rough, "then staying here only puts everyone at risk."
"No," she said, stepping closer. "You're not doing this again."
He looked at her, eyes unreadable. "Doing what?"
"Running," she said. "You did it before — when you first came here, when you thought you didn't belong. But you do belong. This village isn't afraid of you."
He gave a small, bitter smile. "That's because they don't know what I am."
Silence.
Then Hokuto's voice came from behind them, low but certain:
"Then perhaps it's time they did."
All eyes turned to him. The Chief's expression was grim but resolute.
"If Faelinor is to stand against what's coming," he said, "we'll need every strength we have — even the ones we fear."
He looked directly at Kiyoshi. "You said you wanted to protect this village. Prove it."
Kiyoshi met his gaze, something steeling behind his tired eyes. He gave a slow nod. "...Then tell me what I have to do."
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"The Vigil at the Edge."
The forest whispered differently that night.
Usually, Faelinor's borders were alive with the sounds of crickets, wind through leaves, and the faint hum of the river. But tonight... silence. It wasn't peace. It was absence — the kind that made the skin crawl.
Lanterns flickered along the outer walls as the hunters kept watch. Their faces were pale, voices hushed. The monster's corpse had already been burned, but the smoke still lingered — a ghost refusing to leave.
Kiyoshi stood at the far edge of the perimeter, overlooking the dark valley. His coat fluttered slightly in the cold wind, though he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were half-glowing, faint traces of mana still restless beneath his skin.
Celosia approached quietly, her cloak drawn tight. "You haven't rested."
He gave a small chuckle without looking at her. "Neither have you."
She stopped beside him, arms crossed as her eyes followed his gaze. The forest below looked endless — shadows breathing in rhythm with the wind.
For a while, neither spoke.
Finally, Celosia said, "They're afraid, you know. The others."
"I'd be more worried if they weren't," he replied, tone even. "Something's changing out there. That thing I fought... it wasn't supposed to exist."
"Ceng-tae said it was an Echo," she murmured. "A reflection of something that shouldn't be here."
Kiyoshi nodded slowly. "Then the reflection came from somewhere. Or someone."
Celosia turned to look at him fully now. "You think it's you."
He didn't answer. His jaw flexed — the faintest sign of unease.
"Kiyoshi," she said softly, "you saved those people. You protected the village. Don't twist that into guilt."
He met her gaze, and for a moment, his eyes were almost gentle. "You talk like someone who believes I can still be saved."
"I don't think you need saving," she said, her tone steady. "You just need to stop carrying everything alone."
He smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You remind me of someone," he said quietly. "Someone who said the same thing... a long time ago."
Celosia tilted her head. "Someone important?"
He looked out toward the horizon — the faint shimmer of mana storms flickering like stars in the distance. "I don't remember," he admitted. "But when I try... it hurts."
The wind shifted. The lantern flames bent, then steadied. The silence between them deepened — but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just heavy with things unspoken.
Then, faintly — a hum.
Celosia's eyes darted upward. "Do you hear that?"
Kiyoshi frowned. The hum was low, resonant — almost like a song beneath the earth. It wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made the air vibrate. The ground beneath their feet trembled faintly.
Ceng-tae's voice echoed from behind them, sharp and urgent. "Everyone off the ridge! Now!"
Kiyoshi turned — but before he could move, a ripple of blue light tore through the treeline below. The air distorted, like heat over sand, and the ground split open for a brief, horrifying moment.
Then — silence again.
The glow vanished. The tremor stopped. But Kiyoshi's instincts screamed that something wasn't right.
He stepped forward slightly, staring into the now-dark woods. "...They're not done," he whispered.
Celosia's grip tightened on her cloak. "You think they'll attack again?"
"Not tonight," he said, still watching. "They're waiting. The mana's... gathering."
Celosia shivered. "Gathering for what?"
Kiyoshi finally turned toward her, his expression dark but composed. "For something greater."
She didn't understand the words — but the tone made her heart sink anyway.
Ceng-tae reached them moments later, slightly breathless, scrolls in hand. "The leyline is spiking again," he said. "Whatever that surge was — it's not natural. It's moving north."
"Toward the mountains?" Celosia asked.
Ceng-tae nodded grimly. "Yes. The Veil region."
Celosia froze. "That's where... the ruins are."
Kiyoshi's gaze hardened. "Then that's where we start."
The three of them stood there, the lantern light catching their faces. The night wind howled once — carrying with it a faint, echoing roar from far beyond the woods.
The hunters nearby froze, staring out into the distance.
Kiyoshi's hand rested on the hilt of a conjured blade, his voice calm but heavy:
"They've already crossed the Veil."
The roar came again — louder this time, closer.
Celosia whispered under her breath, "Ethera's waking up..."
And as the lanterns flickered out one by one, the stars above Faelinor dimmed — swallowed by something vast and stirring beneath the sky.
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