The wind in Elarian had a song of its own.
It wasn't merely the rustle of leaves or the whisper of air through ancient ruins—it was layered with voices, echoes of past lives, fragments of long-forgotten magic. As Ayla crossed the threshold of the Obsidian Forest, those voices swirled around her like a silent choir, each note tugging at memories she didn't know she possessed.
"Why does it feel like I've been here before?" she murmured, trailing her fingers along the blackened bark of a gnarled tree. The air shimmered briefly around her touch, like something just beneath the surface wanted to remember too.
Behind her, Kael followed without a word, eyes darting between the forest and Ayla's silhouette. He had noticed it too—the forest wasn't merely reacting to their presence. It was responding to her.
"They say this forest remembers every soul that has passed through it," Kael said, breaking the silence. "But for you… it feels like it's awakening."
Ayla glanced back at him. "Awakening for me? That's… disturbing."
"Or divine," Kael replied, though his voice lacked conviction.
The further they went, the darker it became. The canopy thickened, blotting out the starlight, and the path wound in unnatural ways, doubling back and twisting like it had a will of its own. Despite the encroaching darkness, Ayla's vision remained clear. Shapes took form in the shadows—ghostly figures locked in dances of war, lovers trapped in farewell, children chasing dreams that no longer existed.
She didn't speak of what she saw. Neither did Kael.
After what felt like hours, they arrived at a clearing, where a solitary pool mirrored the sky above—only it was not this world's sky. The stars were wrong. The constellations shimmered in patterns Ayla recognized from the night she fell through the portal.
"This is the Echo Pool," Kael said, standing at the edge. "It reflects the truths you're not ready to face. Don't look unless you're prepared."
Ayla didn't hesitate. She stepped to the edge and peered in.
Her reflection shimmered, then dissolved.
Instead, she saw herself standing in the ruins of her old world, New Liora. But it was not the city she left—it was burning. Skyships crashed into towers, fire licked the edges of familiar streets, and screams tore through the air. At the center stood her mother, hands outstretched, eyes glowing the same violet hue that now pulsed faintly in Ayla's irises.
"You were born of the crossing," her mother's echo said. "Two worlds stitched through your veins. And now, both will bleed."
Ayla jerked back, nearly stumbling into Kael.
He caught her, holding her steady. "You saw it, didn't you?"
She nodded, breath short. "My mother… she was trying to tell me something. That I'm the reason both worlds are unraveling."
Kael's jaw tightened. "The rift between worlds was never natural. Someone—or something—forced it open."
"And I'm the byproduct?" Ayla asked, voice cracking.
"No," he said, stepping in front of her, his gaze fierce. "You're the bridge. The only one who might close it."
Before Ayla could respond, the wind shifted.
A low hum pulsed through the ground. The trees trembled. Then, from the forest's edge, a figure stepped out—cloaked in shadow, face hidden beneath a metallic mask. The mask bore no expression, only the symbol of a crescent eclipsing a sun.
"The Seeker," Kael whispered, his hand already at his blade.
Ayla stood frozen. The figure radiated something ancient—neither wholly evil nor good, but absolute.
"You have seen too much," the Seeker said, voice distorted and echoing. "Truth must be earned, not stumbled upon."
"Who are you?" Ayla demanded, her voice steadier than she felt.
"I am the custodian of convergence. The guardian of equilibrium. And you, Ayla Elaris, threaten the balance."
The air thickened with magic. Kael moved in front of her, sword drawn, but the Seeker made no move to attack. Instead, he raised a hand, and a tear opened beside him—another portal, swirling with colors that bled like oil across water.
"This world is not your prison," he said. "But neither is it your salvation."
"What does that mean?" Ayla asked.
The Seeker tilted his head. "You must choose which world you will let die."
The portal surged, its energy crackling like a living storm.
"No," Kael growled. "She doesn't have to choose. There's another way."
"There is always another way," the Seeker replied. "But not always enough time."
And with that, he stepped into the portal—and vanished.
The tear sealed behind him.
Silence returned, but the forest no longer felt quiet. It was waiting. Listening.
Ayla felt the weight of the moment settle over her like a mantle. She had come to this world searching for answers, but all she'd found were more questions—and a ticking clock.
Kael sheathed his sword. "We need to leave. The Seeker doesn't make idle threats. If he's shown himself, others will come."
Ayla nodded. "Then we find the next fragment."
Kael blinked. "What?"
She turned to him, eyes burning with resolve. "The rift was forced open. That means there's a mechanism—something holding it in place. My mother… she knew. And if I can find the pieces of that magic—those fragments—maybe I can undo what's been done."
Kael looked at her like she'd grown wings. "You're suggesting we go looking for world-bound relics spoken of only in myth and lullaby?"
"I'm suggesting we stop waiting for answers to come," she said. "It's time we chase them."
For a moment, Kael said nothing. Then he smiled—a rare, real smile.
"Well then," he said, offering his hand. "Let's chase the impossible."
And with a pulse of magic from the ground beneath their feet, the Echo Pool faded to stone.
The forest had shown its secrets.
Now it was time to face them.