The air had turned unnervingly still, the forest around them quiet as if holding its breath. Wads' hand instinctively went to the locket at his chest, which now throbbed with a pulse that seemed alive.
"Wads… do you feel that?" Liora asked, her voice cutting through the silence, eyes scanning the slowly thickening fog around them.
He nodded, frowning as his analytical mind struggled to make sense of the phenomenon. "Yeah… it's reacting to something. Something's coming."
Before he could finish, the mist swirled violently, wrapping around them like living shadows. Wads tried to step back, but the ground beneath them vanished, replaced by a weightless gray expanse. Liora's hand shot out instinctively, grabbing his arm.
"Hold on, Wads! Don't freak out!"
"I'm not—" He stopped, breath catching as the locket flared bright, blindingly so, and the mist seemed to bend around it. Shapes moved in the haze—vague, intangible forms that twisted and whispered without words.
Then—soft, firm, urgent—a voice echoed. Not from Liora, not from anywhere visible, but in Wads' mind. One word, repeated, lingering: "Stay alive." Familiar, yet unplaceable, carrying a weight that pressed against his chest.
Wads' dark eyes narrowed. "I—I don't understand… what's happening?"
"You'll figure it out, genius boy," Liora teased lightly, trying to cut through the fear with her usual bravado. But even she looked tense, her grip on him tight.
Time stretched and twisted. Colors bled into the gray mist; flashes of light danced over Wads' locket. Something deep within him stirred, memories he didn't fully remember flickering—visions of purpose, of survival, of something far older than him.
"Liora… I think… I think it wants me to do something," he murmured, voice steady despite the fear clawing at him.
"Well, don't just stand there thinking!" Liora shot back, her usual sarcastic edge present even here. "Do it, genius. Or I'll do it for you!"
Wads' hand clenched over the locket. The world around them shivered, almost as if the mist itself were aware of his decision. A warmth spread through him, merging with the cold clarity of his mind, and the locket's glow dimmed slightly, leaving a lingering pulse.
Finally, the mist began to recede, curling back into nothingness. The clearing reappeared, familiar and sunlit. Wads staggered slightly, blinking at the light. Liora steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.
"That… was insane," she said, exhaling sharply. Then, softer, she added, "I'm going home now, Wads. My father's waiting, and I have to return north. But… I'll be back before you turn thirteen."
Wads' gaze stayed fixed on the locket, still pulsing faintly. "Yeah… I'll be here. I'll figure it out."
She crouched slightly to meet his eyes. "Take care of yourself… and remember to stay sharp."
With a last playful smirk, she turned and disappeared down the path leading north. Wads remained standing in the clearing, fingers still resting on the locket, heart pounding—not just from the experience, but from the weight of the voice and the unspoken warning lingering in his mind.