The forest gave way to stone.
By dawn, the trees had thinned into a landscape of broken rock and pale fog that stretched for miles. The air here was colder, thinner — a silence so complete it felt alive. Kian slowed his pace, boots crunching over frost-slick ground. The bond mark on his wrist pulsed faintly, a rhythm just fast enough to keep his hope alive.
Echo Vale.
He had heard the name whispered only in old stories — the place where the first wolves had fallen to the moon's wrath, their spirits bound to wander forever between life and legend. The veil between worlds was thin here. Breath itself felt heavier, tinged with something metallic.
Kian paused at the edge of a cliff. Below, a river ran black and still, mirroring the pale light of the unseen moon. The valley stretched wide — ridges carved with strange symbols, ruins scattered like bones across the fog.
He crouched, touching one of the symbols etched into a fallen stone: a crescent pierced by a single line. His vision shimmered. For a second, he saw the valley as it once had been — wild, full of life, silver banners rippling in the wind. Then the image faded, leaving only ruin.
A voice carried on the air — faint, familiar.
"Kian."
He straightened instantly, every muscle tense. "Lyra?"
No reply. Only the echo of his own breath returning from the fog.
He took a cautious step forward — then another. The air rippled, and suddenly he wasn't alone.
Figures emerged from the mist — not spirits this time, but wolves, translucent and pale as moonlight, circling him in slow silence. Their eyes gleamed white, not hostile, not welcoming — only watching.
Kian didn't draw his blade. He stood still, waiting.
One of the wolves stepped closer — larger than the rest, its fur shimmering faintly. It tilted its head, studying him. Then it opened its jaws and spoke in a voice that sounded like wind over frozen ground.
"Alpha of the broken line. You walk where your kind once fell."
Kian's heartbeat thudded. "I seek the Moonbearer."
The wolf's eyes glowed brighter. "The moon does not give what it claims."
"Then it can fight me for her."
A ripple passed through the pack — a whisper of sound that could have been approval or pity.
The great wolf stepped closer until its muzzle was inches from Kian's face. "To reach her, you must pass through the Vale's heart. The echo will test you — what you fear, what you hide. If your will breaks, you will stay here forever."
"I've already lost her once," Kian said quietly. "That won't happen again."
The wolf's gaze held his for a long, silent moment. Then, without another word, the pack dissolved — one by one — into mist, their howls fading into the air until only a faint trail of silver light remained, winding deeper into the valley.
Kian followed.
The path twisted, narrowing between cliffs that dripped with frost. The further he went, the heavier the air became. His breath came in puffs of white, his pulse echoing too loudly in his ears.
Then he saw it — at the valley's center — a stone arch standing over a pool of black water. The surface shimmered like glass, though no wind touched it. Above, the sky split open in a crack of silver light.
The bond mark on his wrist burned.
He stepped to the edge of the water, staring into his reflection — but it wasn't his own face staring back.
It was Lyra's.
Her silver eyes glowed faintly, and her lips moved as though she were speaking. He leaned closer. The reflection mirrored him, then smiled — too calmly.
"Kian," it said. "You shouldn't have come."
His breath caught. "Where are you?"
The reflection's expression softened. "You'll find me soon. But every step you take brings you closer to the moon's will… not mine."
The water rippled, and her image fractured into a thousand shimmering shards. Each one whispered the same word — remember.
Kian reached out, fingertips grazing the surface. The pool shattered like glass beneath his touch — and he fell forward into darkness.