The core thrummed in Evelyn's hands, like a caged heartbeat. Light fractured across its surface in ribbons of gold and blue, dancing like flame trapped under ice. Even cracked and bleeding energy, it was beautiful—and terrifying.
Torren was pacing, his boots carving shallow tracks into the pine-needle floor. "We should burn it. You heard him. It's unstable. If it breaks…"
"I know," Evelyn said, her voice tight. "But I can feel it. It doesn't want to shatter. Not yet."
Torren turned to her, jaw clenched. "And what—what, exactly, do you want to do with it?"
Evelyn didn't answer. Her fingers curled around the core, and a flicker of heat shot up her arm, sharp and warning. Her breath caught, and with it came a whisper—half-thought, half-song—sliding into her mind like warm honey:
You are already hollowing. Let the fire fill the void.
She dropped the core with a hiss, cradling her wrist. The light dimmed slightly, as if offended.
"What was that?" Torren moved toward her, but not the core.
"I heard… something." She shook her head. "Not words exactly. But it felt… familiar."
He gave her a look that teetered between fear and disbelief. "You're not seriously thinking of using it?"
She didn't answer, but her silence was too loud.
Torren knelt. "Eve. I know you're strong. Stronger than me, maybe. But this thing—it's not meant for people like us. We're villagers. We fish and we mend and we run when we need to. We don't… bind cores."
She met his eyes, hers shadowed. "Then maybe I'm not just a villager anymore."
A gust stirred the canopy. Silence fell. Too complete.
The birds were gone again.
Then came the crunch of movement—low, deliberate, heavy. Something was watching them.
"Back," Torren whispered, blade half-drawn.
The bushes ahead parted, revealing a pair of golden eyes—reflective, intelligent, rimmed in black.
Not a beast.
An Echoed.
Its form flickered, shimmering around the edges. Half-shadow, half-solid. Tall as a man, its arms too long, its shoulders mantled in chitin. Where a mouth should be, there was a slit of softly pulsing light.
Torren positioned himself between Evelyn and the thing. "Run. Now."
Evelyn didn't move.
The core pulsed behind them on the forest floor.
Another whisper licked at her mind: Take me. Or I will break alone.
The Echoed took a step forward, and the trees around it bowed, like the very forest recoiled from its presence.
She couldn't leave the core. If it broke, if it surged…
With a cry, Evelyn lunged—not away, but toward the fallen Warden's legacy.
The moment her fingers closed around the core again, the light surged.
And everything changed.