The forest didn't feel like it used to.
It breathed differently now quieter, heavier, like it had secrets to keep and shadows that clung to the branches a little too long. Seraphina adjusted the straps of her satchel, her fingers brushing over the sealed scroll Elowen's vision had led them to. The ink had bled with magic living, breathing warnings encoded into the paper that pulsed like a second heartbeat.
Kaelen walked beside her, silent but watchful. His rune-marked hand stayed wrapped in cloth, though both of them could feel the warmth seeping through the fabric. The bloodline curse wasn't resting. It was adapting.
They'd left the coven border two days ago, slipping between neutral zones and forbidden trails, moving under cover of dusk and cloaked spells. No one said it aloud, but they were fugitives now. The whispers of war had reached even the smallest trees, and neither the witches nor the wolves trusted them anymore.
Only the Hybrid School of Echoes could offer answers. Or more questions.
"I hate this road," Kaelen muttered finally, his voice breaking through the stillness. "It's too quiet."
Seraphina glanced sideways. "It's called the Whispering Road for a reason."
"Because it whispers before it devours?" he offered.
"Because it remembers every lie ever told on it."
That shut him up for a while.
Hours passed with only the crunch of their boots against damp earth and the occasional flicker of movement in the trees. Somewhere distant, something howled but it wasn't a wolf. Kaelen's posture tensed anyway.
"Do you think the prophecy Elowen spoke of…" he trailed off, struggling to phrase it.
"One must die?" Seraphina said softly, fingers curling around the strap. "Yes. I think it's real."
"But who?"
She didn't answer. Because if she did, she'd say it aloud. And some truths were best left unsaid.
By nightfall, they reached the clearing where the Whispering Road bled into the ancient domain the warded entry to the School of Echoes. It was hidden behind vines, protected by old spells carved into obsidian stones.
A voice greeted them before they touched the boundary.
"Step wrong, and the road forgets you."
Kaelen spun, hand glowing faintly beneath his wrappings. Seraphina raised a spell sigil, but the woman who stepped out of the mist wasn't attacking.
She was ancient. Pale silver eyes, hair like dried straw, robes made of smoke and moss.
"Watcher," Seraphina breathed. "You still exist?"
The woman's smile was all teeth. "Some of us never die. We just wait to be remembered."
"What do you want?" Kaelen asked.
"To see if you're worthy to pass."
Seraphina moved forward. "We bear the sealed summons. Elowen's mark."
The Watcher didn't flinch. "Then bleed on the stone and let it decide."
Seraphina hesitated only a moment before slashing a line across her palm and pressing it to the obsidian marker.
Kaelen followed without hesitation.
The stone hissed, drank, and then burned gold with ancient light.
"Enter, then," the Watcher rasped. "And may your curses not consume you before dawn."
The School of Echoes wasn't what Kaelen expected.
It was ruins yes but alive with echoing spells that wandered the walls like whispers. Columns broken and floating. Stairways leading nowhere. Books that screamed if opened without permission. The magic there wasn't kind. It was knowledge that had claws.
"Elowen's chamber is near the core," Seraphina murmured, guiding them through spiraling halls. "But she'll only appear when the moon aligns with the Triad Mirror."
"When is that?"
"Soon. But we'll need to prepare."
Kaelen turned to her. "Sera… do you trust her?"
She stopped walking. "No. But I trust the prophecy."
His jaw ticked.
Before he could speak again, a ripple passed through the school a summoning hum. Something or someone had sensed them.
A door creaked open behind them. A child's voice echoed down the corridor.
"Witch. Wolf. Betrayal bleeds from both."
They turned. A figure cloaked in crimson stood there. Eyes milky white. Lips stained with old ink.
"Who are you?" Kaelen demanded.
"The Archivist," it replied, voice layered with many tones. "Keeper of what should never be remembered."
Seraphina's eyes narrowed. "We're not here to dig up bones. We need Elowen."
"She is not ready to see you."
"Then make her ready."
The Archivist laughed, but it wasn't amused. "To awaken the Seer, you must offer her a memory… one neither of you want to relive."
Seraphina and Kaelen exchanged a look.
And she knew then what had to be done.
Hours later, under the chamber dome of mirrors, Seraphina knelt on the runed floor, her fingers glowing with firelight. In front of her, the pool of Echo Silver shimmered waiting to receive her offering.
"A memory," the Archivist intoned behind her. "Of guilt. Of truth. Of blood."
Kaelen stood behind her, silent and tense.
She closed her eyes… and reached deep.
Not to childhood. Not to her first kill. But to him.
To the moment she'd seen Kaelen kill his own brother, eyes wild with rage, not knowing she watched from the trees. A moment she never told him she saw.
She poured it into the silver.
It hissed, shimmered and Elowen appeared.
She was a woman made of paradox. Young and ancient. Solid and smoke. Her eyes held stars. Her voice held centuries.
"You came," she whispered. "You defied the laws. Broke the treaties. And bled truths into my floor."
Kaelen stepped forward. "We need answers."
"You need absolution."
Seraphina's voice shook. "Tell us what the prophecy means."
Elowen turned, gesturing to the mirror that showed only flame.
"One must die. But death is not always the end."
Kaelen growled. "We need more than riddles!"
Elowen's gaze darkened. "Then you must prove your bond. Under moon and blood. Soul for soul."
A golden sigil unfurled from the ceiling.
"You have until the next moonrise to offer your sacrifice."
Outside, a storm began to gather.
And in the distance, Malric stood watching, cloaked in black vines, a smile curling over his lips.
"Let them try," he whispered to the wind. "I have my own offering to make."
As the storm cracked the sky above the ruins, Kaelen turned to Seraphina with hollow eyes.
"If it comes down to one of us dying… it has to be me."
But Seraphina didn't speak. She just watched the thunder crawl across the sky, already knowing she would break the world before she let him go.