The forest felt different the second time.
The same trees.The same moss.The same winding path.
But no longer familiar.
Everything breathed.
The shadows between branches,the wind slipping through the leaves,the soil holding the memory of a footprint that should not exist—
All of it watched.
Ren walked at the front.
Lyra beside him, lighter on her feet than sound itself.Borin behind them, every step a quiet threat.Draven… left at the village after attempting to follow and being gently shoved back inside by Borin like an inconvenient goat.
Ren kept his hood low, not to hide—but because light hurt when the echo pulsed.
And it was pulsing.
Rhythmic.Measured.Alert.
Lyra noticed immediately.
"You feel it again?"
Ren nodded.
"Something ahead."
Borin grunted. "Demon?"
"I don't know," Ren said."But it's… awake."
Lyra's hand hovered near her bowstring.
"Awake how?"
Ren stopped in his tracks.
The others froze.
The forest around them had gone silent—
too silent.
No birds.No insects.Not even wind.
Just breath.
Ren's.
Borin's.
Lyra's—
And something else.
A fourth breath.
Slow.Wet.Heavy.
Coming from deeper in the woods.
Lyra's eyes widened.
"That wasn't you, right?"
Ren shook his head.
The echo hummed low in his chest, not warning this time — recognizing.
Whatever was ahead carried intent.
Old intent.
Borin tightened his grip on his axe.
"Say the word."
Ren exhaled.
"We get closer. Quietly. Slowly."
Lyra nodded.
Borin nodded.
The forest did not.
They moved forward — careful steps, steady breathing, bodies low.
Ren felt the echo shift like an animal lifting its head.
Alert.Listening.
They reached the ridge.
Lyra touched Ren's arm, guiding him toward a patch of flattened grass.
"Here."
Ren crouched beside her.
He saw it immediately.
Not one footprint this time.
Three.
The first large, deep, clawed.The second lighter, fresher.The third—
Ren's breath stopped.
The third print was shaped like a human foot.
A child's foot.
Borin cursed under his breath.
Lyra whispered:
"Someone was with it."
Ren stared hard at the smallest print.
The echo trembled.
Lyra noticed his shoulders tense.
"What is it?"
Ren slowly extended his hand over the footprint.
"It's warm."
Lyra inhaled sharply.
"Warm?! Ren, that means—"
"They were here less than an hour ago."
Borin's eyes narrowed.
"Where did they go?"
Ren stood, eyes scanning the trees — not for footprints, but for the direction intent flowed.
The echo vibrated.
North.
Ren pointed.
"That way."
They followed.
The forest thickened, branches pressing close like ribs around a beating heart.
Ren slowed.
Lyra leaned forward.
"What now?"
Ren raised a finger to silence her.
The echo wasn't humming anymore.
It was breathing.
Not in rhythm with him—against him.
Ren's pulse quickened.
"We're close."
They stepped into a clearing.
And froze.
A young boy stood alone in the center.
Eight years old, maybe.Barefoot.Clothes torn.Eyes wide and empty like moonlit water.
Lyra moved forward—
Ren grabbed her wrist.
"No."
Borin tensed.
"Why?"
Ren's voice came out thin.
"Because the boy isn't breathing."
Lyra's heart dropped.
She looked again.
The child's chest wasn't moving.
Not rising.Not falling.
Still.
Absolutely still.
And yet—
He turned his head toward them.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
His neck cracked faintly.
His lips parted.
"Hello."
The voice wasn't right.
Not childish.
Not alive.
Borin lifted his axe.
Lyra reached for an arrow.
Ren stepped forward—
And the echo screamed inside him.
The boy smiled.
But it wasn't a smile.
Not really.
Then—
Something moved behind the child.
A shadow.
Tall.Bent.Wrong.
Intent—
wet,ancient,curious—
pressed against Ren's skull.
Lyra whispered:
"Oh gods…"
The boy's pupils expanded until his eyes were entirely black.
And the shadow behind him leaned forward, as if looking through the child at Ren.
Ren felt cold.
Then the boy spoke again, voice splitting into two tones:
"We've been looking for you."
The echo pulsed so violently Ren tasted blood.
The shadow reached out through the child's silhouette—
And the chapter ends.