The clearing stayed unnervingly still after the silhouette vanished.
Not silent.Not dead.
Waiting.
As if the memory had only peeled back one layer of something much older.
Ren stood motionless, eyes fixed on the space where the figure had faded.The echo inside him pulsed in uneven intervals, almost startled—like it, too, had been acknowledged.
Lyra kept a hand on his arm, grounding him.
"Ren… are you still with us?"
He blinked slowly.
"Yes."
Borin didn't look convinced.
"You're answering, but you're not here."
Draven peeked from behind Borin's elbow.
"He's pale. I mean—paler. Like… ghost-pale. Is he ghost-pale?!"
Ren let out a shaky breath.
"I just… felt something."
Lyra stepped closer.
"What did you feel?"
Ren lowered his gaze.
"The moment it bowed…the echo stopped calling."
Lyra's eyes widened.
"That's good, right? That means it's weakening!"
Ren shook his head.
"No. It means…"
He hesitated.
"It's listening."
Draven screamed into his hands.
"WHY DOES EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FOREST GET WORSE THE MORE WE STAY HERE?!"
Borin placed a hand on Ren's shoulder.
"Kid. This thing listening to you… is it dangerous?"
Ren finally looked up.
And his answer didn't come from fear.
It came from truth.
"It doesn't know yet."
The forest shivered.
A faint rumble rolled under their feet—not loud, not deep, but unmistakable.
Roots shifted.
Earth loosened.
Something stirred.
Borin raised his axe with both hands.
"What now?"
Lyra pulled Ren slightly behind her—even though she knew it was useless to try protecting him from whatever this was.
Ren stared at the ground.
And whispered:
"The heart."
Lyra froze.
"What heart?"
Ren knelt, touching the soil with trembling fingers.
"The heart of the memory.The place where everything began."
Draven flailed.
"WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE A HEART?! TREES SHOULDN'T HAVE HEARTS! MEMORIES SHOULDN'T HAVE HEARTS! SHADOWS SHOULDN'T HAVE HEARTS!"
Ren didn't seem to hear him.
The soil beneath his hand grew warm.
Warm—not cold like the Shadow's presence.Not soft like spiritual energy.
Warm like blood.
Ren swallowed hard.
"It's not alive," he said softly.
Borin exhaled in relief.
"Good. Because for a second—"
"It's not dead either."
Draven collapsed again.
Borin closed his eyes.
"Of course it isn't."
The ground trembled a second time—stronger.More deliberate.
The roots shifted outward in a slow spiral, revealing a hollow beneath the soil.Not a hole.Not a tunnel.
A cavity.
A chamber.
Lyra's pupils contracted.
"Ren… what is that?"
Ren felt the echo sync with the rhythm beneath the earth.
He spoke as if in trance:
"It's the place where the path was first chosen."
Lyra blinked.
"Chosen? By who?"
Ren stood.
And the tremor stopped.
He looked at the others.
And said:
"By the first one who rejected the world."
The forest groaned—a long, aching sound like old wood bending.
Lyra stepped closer to him, her voice shaking.
"Ren… does this have something to do with the Shadow?"
Ren nodded.
"But not how you think."
The roots parted a little more, revealing the top of something buried—stone, smooth and light gray, marked with faint spiraling patterns.
Draven's voice came out as a squeak:
"Is that a grave?! Please don't tell me it's a grave. I can't handle graves. Graves come with ghosts. Ghosts come with grudges. Grudges—"
"It's not a grave," Ren said quietly.
Lyra looked at him.
"Then what is it?"
Ren inhaled slowly.
And when he spoke, the echo inside him trembled:
"It's a seal."
Borin cursed.
"A seal?! Seals mean danger. Or monsters. Or both. Usually both."
Lyra touched Ren's arm.
"Ren… what is sealed down there?"
Ren didn't answer.
Because the echo answered for him.
With a single pulse—
Hard.Sharp.Reverent.
Like recognition.
Lyra felt him stiffen.
"Ren?"
He whispered:
"Someone like me."
The clearing fell silent.
Utterly.
Unearthly.
Lyra's breath hitched.
"You mean—like the Shadow?"
Ren shook his head.
"No. Not her."
He placed his hand over his heart.
"Someone who had… an echo."
Borin gripped his axe until the handle creaked.
"And what happened to this someone?"
Ren stepped toward the seal.
"The forest hid them."
The earth trembled again—soft, mournful.
Lyra swallowed.
"Why?"
Ren touched the stone.
A faint pulse of light traveled across the surface.
And he understood.
His voice came out fragile.
"They didn't want the next one to find them."
Draven's jaw dropped.
"THEN WHY ARE WE FINDING THEM?!"
Ren closed his eyes.
"Because I'm not the next."
Lyra stared.
"Then who are you?"
Ren opened his eyes.
The echo pulsed once.
Hard.
And Ren answered:
"The one who ends the path."
The forest exhaled—a long, shuddering breath.
As if relieved.As if terrified.
Or both.