For a heartbeat, no one breathed.
The boy stood in the clearing, small body still as carved wood, eyes black and glossy like a well filled with night.And behind him…
The shadow leaned.
It wasn't a shape.Not truly.It was an absence of shape — an outline the mind refused to hold, as if understanding it meant letting something inside.
Lyra trembled.
Borin lifted his axe higher.
Ren's knees almost buckled.
The echo inside him thrashed — not in fear, but in warning.
The boy tilted his head at an unnatural angle.
"Hello… Ren."
Lyra's breath hitched.
Borin stepped in front of him.
Ren didn't move.
He couldn't.
"How do you know my name?" Ren asked quietly.
The boy's lips stretched into a smile too wide for a human face.
"We—"His voice broke into two tones, overlapping disturbingly."—have many ways."
Lyra's fingers tightened around her bowstring.
"Let the child go," she said, forcing her voice steady."Now."
The boy blinked.
Once.Slowly.
Then the shadow behind him rippled.
A cold pressure spread across the clearing — like fingers trailing along the bones beneath Ren's skin.
Ren whispered:
"Don't move closer."
Lyra froze mid-step.
The boy giggled.
It was the only thing about him that sounded human.
"He doesn't want you near," he said sweetly."He doesn't like when pieces break."
Borin narrowed his eyes.
"Who?"
The boy answered:
"The echo."
Ren felt his heart crack.
The echo inside him pulsed — sharp, offended, defensive.
And the shadow behind the child leaned closer, examining Ren as if he were an artifact in a forgotten shrine.
"You carry it," the boy whispered."You breathe with it. You ache with it. You drown in it."
Ren's voice was low.
"What do you want?"
The boy blinked again, eyes unfocusing — as if trying to remember which personality was supposed to answer.
"We want…"He paused.The shadow behind him hissed softly."…to know what you'll become."
Lyra stepped forward despite Ren's warning.
Ren grabbed her hand, stopping her.
"Don't," he whispered."It sees intent. If you attack, it will kill the boy."
Lyra's eyes burned.
"So what do we do?"
Ren didn't know.
The shadow shifted again — stretching taller, longer, bending over the child like a grotesque guardian.
The boy's voice softened into a whisper almost mournful:
"You walked near the seal. You touched the beating stone. You survived the dream."
Ren's pulse spiked.
Lyra's grip tightened on his sleeve.
Borin's jaw tightened.
The boy continued, voice trembling:
"Do you know how rare that is?"
Ren swallowed.
"…no."
"Rare enough…"His eyes rolled slightly, as if a second consciousness tugged at him."…that we were sent to watch you."
Lyra's breath turned to ice.
"You were sent?"
"Yes."The boy smiled again."But not by us."
Behind him, the shadow convulsed — a ripple of pure malice — and the boy lurched forward, coughing violently.
Lyra gasped.
He spat something dark onto the ground — it evaporated instantly.
Then he whispered:
"I'm sorry."
Ren's breath faltered.
"For what?"
"For being here first."
The shadow surged.
Ren felt a force shove him backward — not physically, but spiritually.The echo inside him recoiled as if struck.
Lyra grabbed his shoulders.
"Ren! REN!"
The boy lifted his head.
His voice layered again — two tones, one childlike, one ancient.
"They are coming."
Ren's heart froze.
"Who?"
The boy's eyes flickered, black widening until no white remained.
"The ones who heard the same call you did."
Ren felt sick.
Lyra's voice trembled.
"What call?"
The boy answered:
"The call to break the world again."
And then—
The shadow behind him snapped forward.
Not toward Ren.Toward the boy.
Lyra screamed.
Borin lunged.
Ren reached out—
But the shadow wrapped around the child like a shroud.
For one impossible moment, Ren saw the boy's real face beneath the darkness:
Terrified.Begging.Human.
Then—
He vanished.
No scream.No explosion.No trace.
Only silence.
The echo inside Ren collapsed inward — like a lung losing air.
He fell to his knees.
Lyra grabbed him.
"Ren! Are you hurt?!"
He shook his head weakly.
"No. But…"
He touched his chest.
The echo wasn't screaming.
It wasn't humming.
It wasn't asking.
It was shaking.
Lyra whispered:
"What does it mean?"
Ren's breath trembled.
"It wasn't the Shadow."He looked toward the trees."It wasn't the sealed one."He swallowed."It was something else."
Borin's face darkened.
"Something worse?"
Ren didn't answer.
He stood slowly, staring into the dark woods — where the boy had vanished.
And whispered:
"They weren't watching me."
Lyra frowned.
"Then who?"
Ren turned to her.
Eyes gray.Haunted.Certain.
"They were watching the echo."
A branch cracked somewhere deeper in the forest.
Borin raised his axe.
Lyra reached for an arrow.
Ren stepped forward, the echo trembling in his chest like a frightened animal.
And far, far beyond the trees—
something answered.