Not from physical pressure—Eira had already checked that—but from resonance.
A hollow echo reverberated through his ribs, like a memory trying to force its way upward.
He sat on a stone block while Nyros curled protectively around his feet. Eira knelt in front of him, tying a cooling wrap around his neck despite his repeated, very logical protests.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“It’s just resonance backlash.”
“That’s still hurt. Hold still.”
Kael held still.
Rhoen, meanwhile, paced like a man who’d just been handed a prophecy and a headache at the same time.
“The Choir has Fragments,” he muttered. “Fragments that recognize you. Fragments that speak. Fragments that retreat instead of dying…”
Nima raised a hand from behind a pillar. “Can we vote that we never fight one again?”
“No,” Rhoen snapped.
Nima lowered his hand. “Then I vote we run away from the next one faster.”
Eira tightened the wrap on Kael’s neck. “What exactly did the Fragment say to you?”
Kael hesitated.
Nyros nudged him, sensing the conflict.
Rhoen turned, eyes sharp. “Kael. We need the truth.”
Kael exhaled, slow.
“It said… ‘Find the rest.’”
The chamber seemed to darken at the words.
Eira’s expression tightened. “Fragments. Plural.”
Rhoen swore quietly. “Which means these things are scattered across the continent.”
Nima groaned. “Oh perfect. They’re collectible.”
Eira glared. “Nima.”
“Well I’m sorry we’re on a scavenger hunt for nightmare shards!”
Rhoen approached the cracked memory sphere, inspecting the fractured lines pulsing with dying resonance.
“This sphere didn’t break because of age,” he said. “It cracked when Kael touched its rhythm.”
Kael winced. “Sorry.”
“You didn’t break it,” Rhoen said. “It reacted to you.”
Nima peeked over Rhoen’s shoulder. “Can we react less? For safety reasons?”
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Eira ignored both of them. She approached the sphere. “If this contains memory, maybe it contains… coordinates?”
Kael blinked. “Coordinates?”
“It said ‘find the rest,’ didn’t it?” Eira said. “Maybe the sphere was storing where the other Fragments are.”
Rhoen nodded. “Memory spheres preserve the world as it was. If the Choir splintered here, the locations of the Fragments might have been recorded.”
Kael approached the sphere.
The surface flickered when he got close.
Not broken.
Listening.
He swallowed.
Eira touched his arm gently. “You don’t have to activate it.”
“I know.”
But he did.
He reached toward the sphere—
Nyros barked sharply.
Kael froze.
Eira backed up, ribbon ready.
Rhoen’s hands tightened on his blades.
The sphere pulsed.
Then projected.
Not light.
Threads.
Silver lines shot upward, weaving a three-dimensional map in the air — a lattice of floating resonance threads forming the shape of Vardain, the entire continent.
Nima gasped. “Oooohhhh. Fancy.”
Kael stepped forward, eyes wide.
The map shimmered with paths, nodes, and spirals.
But five points glowed brighter than anything else:
-
One beneath Glade-Way (where they stood)
-
One deep in the Stormlands
-
One beneath the Academy Isles
-
One in the ruins of Emberfall
-
And one… far north… beyond any marked settlement
Rhoen’s face hardened. “Five Fragments.”
Eira exhaled shakily. “If the Choir gathers all five…”
“It rebuilds the King,” Rhoen finished.
Nyros growled.
Kael stared at the northern point.
It pulsed differently.
Darker.
Colder.
Like a wound.
Eira frowned. “Kael? You look… strange.”
Kael swallowed. “The northern… one. It feels familiar.”
Nima blinked. “What, like you’ve been there?”
“No,” Kael whispered. “Like something from there remembers me.”
Silence.
Rhoen stepped beside Kael. “What else do you sense?”
Kael closed his eyes.
The Mist inside him curled like smoke around a flame.
“…Music,” he said softly. “A song with pieces missing.”
Nima made a small, terrified noise. “I don’t like that.”
Kael pointed at the pulsing northern point.
“That one is the loudest.”
Eira’s voice lowered. “Do you think it’s calling you?”
Kael didn’t answer.
Because the answer was yes.
Rhoen broke the tension. “We take this to the Guild Council immediately. The Echo Guild needs to prepare for a continental threat.”
Nima raised a hand. “Can I vote we don’t?”
“No,” Rhoen said.
Eira looked at Kael. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Kael said. “But I will be.”
Nyros pressed his nose into Kael’s hand.
Eira exhaled, relieved.
But then—
The map flickered.
The northern point pulsed again.
Once.
Twice.
Then exploded into a burst of black static.
Everyone jumped back.
Kael stared.
Rhoen’s eyes widened. “What was that?”
Nima screamed, “THE MAP IS ALIVE—”
Kael whispered:
“…Someone destroyed the northern memory.”
Eira froze. “The sphere couldn’t project it?”
Kael shook his head.
“No. Something erased it.”
Silence.
Deep. Heavy.
The chamber groaned, stone shifting.
A whisper drifted through the walls—
“Too slow.”
Kael’s blood ran cold.
Eira stepped in front of him instantly. “Kael. Don’t react.”
Nima hid behind a pillar. “LET’S REACT BY LEAVING!”
Rhoen pointed to the exit. “Move! Now!”
The chamber shook violently.
Threads snapped.
Stone cracked.
Nyros barked urgently.
Kael grabbed Eira’s arm. “Go!”
They sprinted for the stairs as the chamber collapsed behind them, Choir markings burning out like dying embers.
The memory sphere imploded.
The map disintegrated.
And the voice whispered one last time—
“Find the rest…
before I do.”
Kael stumbled.
Eira caught him.
Rhoen shoved them forward.
Nima tripped, screamed, and kept running.
Nyros herded them all like a furious fox general.
They burst out of the collapsing passage just as stone thundered behind them.
Kael turned back, dust choking the air.
The chamber was gone.
Buried again.
But the voice still echoed inside his skull.
It knew him.
It wanted him.
It was racing him.
And Kael, breath trembling, whispered to the falling dust:
“…Then come try.”
Travelers at Dusk.