The Guild didn’t take long to assemble.

  Mostly because Rhoen stormed into Glade-Way like a man who’d just been personally insulted by the concept of underground mysteries.

  Within an hour, a squad of six Echo Guild hunters, two resonance mages, and one very stressed healer followed Kael back to the scar. Eira walked beside him, ribbon coiled and tense. Nima lagged behind, muttering prayers to every deity he remembered and some he invented on the spot.

  Nyros trotted at Kael’s heel, tail stiff.

  The scar hadn’t pulsed again.

  Which, somehow, made it worse.

  Rhoen stood at the edge of it, arms crossed like he was trying to intimidate the geological phenomenon into behaving.

  “Nothing moved since you last checked?” he asked.

  Kael shook his head.

  “Any further resonance?”

  “No. Just… that lullaby.”

  Rhoen stared at him. “Don’t call it that.”

  “What should I call it?”

  “Something less cursed.”

  Nima raised a hand. “I suggest ‘the horrible underground jam.’”

  “We’re not calling it that either,” Rhoen snapped.

  The Guild mages began setting up resonance wards around the scar. Thin threads of blue patterned themselves in the air — safety nets to detect movement underground.

  Everything should have felt routine.

  Procedural.

  Controlled.

  It didn’t.

  Kael felt it in his ribs — the same wrong pressure he’d felt before the Threadrender appeared. Not a threat. Not hostile.

  Just… watching.

  Eira stepped closer. “Kael, if something talks again, don’t answer.”

  “I didn’t answer last time.”

  “You almost did.”

  Nyros flicked his tail in agreement.

  Kael sighed. “Fine. If something speaks, I won’t answer it.”

  Nima muttered, “That includes boxes, holes, echoes, ghosts, voices of destiny—”

  “We get it,” Eira said.

  Before Kael could reply, one of the mages stiffened.

  “Guildmaster,” she called. “Something’s disrupting the net.”

  Rhoen instantly moved. “Direction?”

  “Under us. It’s—” Her voice caught. “It’s moving too fast.”

  Nyros barked, fur spiking.

  The resonance wards flickered—

  —then shattered in a burst of blue static.

  Nima screamed like a man losing a fight with gravity and ghosts at the same time. “ABORT! EVERYONE ABORT!”

  Kael drew his sword.

  The ground split beneath them.

  Not the scar.

  Right beside Eira.

  Kael shouted her name—

  as something clawed its way out of the dirt, hurling soil in a wide arc.

  It was humanoid.

  Almost.

  Wrapped in hard, cracked resonance plates.

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  A single glowing line ran down its face—vertical and sharp.

  A Warden.

  A Hollow sentinel with a gaze that locked onto your heartbeat.

  But this one was different.

  Its plates were cracked… wet… almost shaking.

  It moaned. Not in rage. Not in hunger.

  In grief.

  A single resonant, echoing sob vibrated out of its throat.

  Eira’s eyes widened. “This one— Kael, this one is mourning.”

  Nima peeked from behind Kael. “Great. Perfect. Even the monsters have tragic backstories now.”

  The Warden turned toward Kael.

  Its cracked mask shifted.

  And the vertical line on its face glowed brighter.

  Kael’s vision tingled —

  an involuntary pull,

  threads inside him being exposed,

  mapped,

  targeted.

  Rhoen shouted, “Don’t look at its eyes!”

  Kael snapped his gaze to the creature’s chest instead.

  Too late.

  The Warden thrust its hand toward him—

  —and Kael’s heart lurched.

  Rhythm-break.

  His breath hitched in his throat.

  His pulse stuttered.

  His internal anchors twisted.

  Eira moved.

  She snapped her ribbon out — a whip of cloth catching the Warden’s wrist. The impact sent a shock through her arms, but she held.

  “Kael! Move!”

  He blinked hard, fighting the numbness in his ribs.

  “I’m fine—”

  “You’re not fine,” Nima yelled, grabbing Kael’s sleeve. “You’re doing the face you do when you almost die!”

  Kael exhaled sharply and forced his heartbeat to stabilize.

  Anchor.

  Pulse.

  Breath.

  The Warden roared again — a terrible, mournful sound that shook dust from the trees.

  Eira gritted her teeth. “This one’s stronger. WAY stronger.”

  “Why is it crying?” Nima asked. “Is that allowed?! Can we get a rulebook?!”

  Kael lowered his stance. “Doesn’t matter. It’s hostile.”

  The Warden slammed its foot into the ground.

  A shockwave of resonance rippled outward, lifting dirt, grass, and three unlucky hunters who immediately regretted their life choices.

  Rhoen bellowed orders: “Suppress it! Don’t let it lock onto your threads!”

  Nyros leapt forward, mist trailing behind him.

  The Warden snapped its head toward the fox—

  —eyes flaring.

  Kael’s stomach dropped. “Nyros!”

  The fox vanished in a blur, reappearing beside Kael with hackles raised.

  The Warden’s faceplate cracked wider.

  A second glowing line spread across it — horizontal this time.

  Eira gasped. “It’s forming a Choir sigil.”

  Rhoen’s expression tightened. “This isn’t a normal Warden. It’s a mourning variant. It’s been absorbing Choir grief.”

  Kael didn’t like the sound of that.

  The Warden lunged.

  Kael met it.

  Mist Blade flared across his sword as he intercepted the blow. Sparks flew — real ones and resonant ones — the impact jarring Kael’s entire arm.

  The creature’s strength was absurd.

  “Eira!” Kael shouted. “Anchor left!”

  “On it!”

  She drove ribbon-stakes into the ground, pulling the battlefield’s rhythm into alignment.

  Kael used the moment —

  Echo Step.

  Veil Flicker.

  Afterimage slicing forward—

  The Warden pivoted.

  Its gaze hit Kael again.

  His breath froze.

  His pulse stuttered.

  Nima yelled, “STOP LETTING IT LOOK AT YOU!”

  “I’M TRYING,” Kael hissed.

  Nyros darted forward —

  biting the Warden’s ankle.

  Mist-light flared from his jaws.

  The Warden staggered — its resonance threads dimming for a second.

  Kael moved.

  Precision.

  Focus.

  Rhythm.

  Mist Rend sparked along the blade.

  He aimed for the Warden’s chest —

  for the core thread hidden beneath the plates—

  The Warden caught the blade in its bare hand.

  Kael’s eyes widened.

  Mist Rend stopped mid-swing.

  Eira shouted, “It’s resisting! Kael, pull back!”

  The Warden’s second hand rose.

  It pressed its palm to Kael’s chest.

  A cold wave tore through him.

  Emotion.

  Grief.

  Loss.

  Kael gasped.

  A memory surged — not his:

  A voice sobbing.

  A child crying.

  A resonance line shattering—

  “Kael!” Eira grabbed him from behind, yanking him back.

  Nima threw his spear — surprisingly accurate — hitting the Warden’s shoulder and knocking its aim aside.

  Nyros leapt, biting the Warden’s wrist, pulling it away from Kael.

  The spell broke.

  Kael inhaled sharply, stumbling.

  Eira steadied him, gripping his arm tightly. “Don’t let it touch you again. It’s using emotional resonance to overwhelm your Mist.”

  “I noticed,” Kael said hoarsely.

  The Warden turned toward them —

  its faceplate fracturing completely now.

  And beneath the cracks—

  Kael saw eyes.

  Not monster eyes.

  Human eyes.

  Crying.

  Kael’s breath caught.

  “It’s suffering,” he whispered.

  Eira’s jaw clenched. “Kael… don’t.”

  “We can’t just kill—”

  “We can’t save it either.”

  The Warden screamed again.

  The ground trembled.

  Its resonance lines flared violently — too bright, too unstable.

  It was going to explode.

  Rhoen shouted, “KAEL! END IT NOW!”

  Kael lifted his sword.

  The Warden rushed him with everything it had left—

  Nyros lunged, anchoring its leg for half a second.

  Eira locked its arm with a ribbon-stake.

  Nima yelled, “DO THE THING WITH THE CUTTING!”

  Kael moved.

  Echo Step.

  Iron Rhythm.

  Dual Weave Link.

  Mist swirling up his arms.

  The blade split the air.

  MIST REND — HEARTLINE.

  A vertical arc of silver cleaved through the Warden’s core.

  For a moment, everything froze.

  Then—

  The creature unraveled.

  Not violently.

  Not in rage.

  Quietly.

  Like someone finally releasing breath after years of holding it.

  The faceplate shattered.

  The eyes closed.

  The body dissolved into soft, drifting resonance dust.

  Gone.

  Eira lowered her ribbon slowly.

  Rhoen exhaled shakily.

  Nima collapsed to his knees. “I hate everything about today.”

  Nyros pressed against Kael’s leg, whining softly.

  Kael looked at the fading dust.

  He whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Eira placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Rhoen stepped forward. “This confirms it. Something below Glade-Way is drawing Choirborn in… and twisting them.”

  Nima raised his hand. “Just one question.”

  Rhoen sighed. “…What?”

  Nima pointed at the scar. “Does anyone else feel like this is just the beginning of something very, VERY bad?”

  The ground pulsed once.

  Just once.

  Kael closed his eyes.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “It is.”

  it corrupts grief itself.