Ren woke before the sun.
Not because he slept lightly—but because he barely slept at all.
The echo pulsed the moment his consciousness surfaced.Not violently.Not painfully.
Deliberately.
Like a knock on a door he didn't remember opening.
Ren sat on the edge of his bed and exhaled.The room felt too small.His skin felt too thin.And his pulse felt out of sync with itself…as if part of it came from someplace else.
Lyra was asleep against the wall, head tilted, bow resting across her lap.She had refused to leave him, even when he told her to.
Ren watched her for a moment.
There was warmth in her presence—real warmth, human warmth—and it made the echo hesitate for a breath.
Just one.
But enough for Ren to feel the difference.
He stood quietly, trying not to wake her, but Lyra stirred anyway.
"Ren…?"
Her voice was soft, half dream, half worry.
"I'm here," he whispered.
She blinked and sat up straighter, rubbing her eyes.
"Did something happen?"
Ren hesitated.
The echo trembled beneath his ribs, urging him forward.
"I… need to go outside."
Lyra's sleepiness vanished instantly.
"I'm coming with you."
He didn't argue.
They stepped outside into the still-dark morning.The village was silent—not fearful, not tense—simply asleep.
But the forest wasn't.
Ren felt it immediately.
The echo pulled.
A direction.A rhythm.A path.
Lyra noticed his jaw tighten.
"Ren… where is it leading you?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he took a slow step forward.
The air responded.
It thickened—not dangerously, but expectantly—as if the world was holding its breath.
Lyra grabbed his arm gently.
"Ren… wait."
He looked at her.
And she saw it again—the thin gray seam behind his eyes, subtle but undeniable.
Not corruption.Not possession.
A fracture.
A mark.
Something left behind.
"Ren," she whispered, "you don't have to follow."
He lowered his gaze.
"I know."
But he still took another step.
Lyra stepped with him.
"Then you don't go alone."
Ren's breath caught, but he didn't stop her.
They walked toward the edge of the village, where the grass met the treeline.
That was when Borin appeared, leaning against a fence with arms crossed.
"Took you long enough."
Lyra blinked.
"You were awake?"
"Couldn't sleep," Borin replied."Felt something stirring. Figured it was you two."
Draven emerged from behind a crate, trembling.
"I— I wasn't eavesdropping! I just— I heard— I felt— I mean I didn't feel— I just— I don't want to die in my sleep!"
Ren stared at them.
"You both felt it?"
Borin nodded.
Draven shook his head violently.
"I FELT NOTHING AND I WANT TO KEEP IT THAT WAY."
Ren turned back to the forest.
The echo pulsed again.
Once.
Twice.
A third time—faster, sharper.
Lyra's eyes widened.
"It's calling harder."
Ren stepped forward—
And the world reacted.
Not with sound.Not with movement.
With pressure.
A weight fell on the air, subtle but absolute.The trees rustled without wind.The ground hummed beneath their feet.
Borin lifted his axe.
"Ren. What's out there?"
Ren inhaled slowly.
Not fearfully.
Not bravely.
But knowingly.
"The path."
Draven squeaked:
"THE PATH? WHAT PATH? WHICH— WHOSE— WHY—?!"
Ren didn't answer him.
He walked.
Lyra followed immediately.
Borin grunted and followed too.
Draven hesitated… then sprinted after them rather than be left alone.
As they stepped into the treeline, something shifted.
The forest quieted.
Not in warning—but in recognition.
Leaves trembled, bending subtly toward Ren.
Roots beneath the soil coiled away from his steps, clearing space.
The air grew colder, but not hostile.
It was like walking into a place that had been waiting for them.
No—waiting for him.
Lyra grabbed his hand.
"Ren… this place is reacting to you."
He nodded.
"I know."
"It wasn't like this before," she said softly.
"I know."
Borin scowled.
"This feels wrong."
"I know."
Draven whimpered.
"This feels VERY wrong."
"I know."
Ren closed his eyes.
The echo throbbed.
And he felt it—the direction, the pull, the intention.
He wasn't being summoned.
He was being guided.
He opened his eyes.
And whispered:
"This is where the echo leads."
The forest shivered around them.
Something ahead—deep, deep within—shifted in answer.
Lyra squeezed his hand.
"Ren… we don't have to go further."
He looked at her.
And for the first time, his answer wasn't hesitant.
It wasn't confused.
It wasn't afraid.
"I do."
Lyra's breath caught.
"Ren—"
He squeezed her hand back, gently.
"And you don't have to."
Her eyes softened—hurt, devotion, fear—all tangled together.
"I'm staying with you."
Borin stepped forward.
"So am I."
Draven screamed:
"SO AM I BUT I'M DEFINITELY REGRETTING IT—"
And Ren took the next step.
The forest opened before him.
Not naturally.
Not magically.
But like something unseen had parted the way—
waitingfor himto arrive.