The light of dawn filtered through the cracked shutters, painting lines of gold across the stone walls of the ruined watchtower. Elyria stirred, her breath visible in the chill air. The campfire had long since burned out, and the warmth from it was nothing but a memory.
Caelum was already awake, standing at the tower's edge, staring down into the valley. His silhouette looked carved from dusk itself—solid, unmoving, watchful. Elyria approached quietly, wrapping her cloak tighter around her as the wind howled through the cracks in the stone.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked gently, her voice still hoarse from disuse.
Caelum didn't look at her. "There's something moving in the valley. Has been for the past hour. I can't tell if it's one of the Sentinels or something worse."
Elyria followed his gaze. The mist below was thick, swallowing everything in pale tendrils that shifted unnaturally. Shapes flickered—some long and serpentine, others squat and lurching.
"It's like the fog has eyes," she whispered.
"It does," came a voice behind them.
They turned to see Alric, the priest of the Ashen Order, stepping into the light. His robes were travel-worn, the once-white fabric now dulled to ash-grey. Yet the pendant around his neck still shimmered faintly—a silver disc etched with the sigil of balance.
"That's not natural fog," Alric continued. "It's Memory Fog. It seeps from places where pain and loss cling like rot. It feeds on what's been forgotten… and sometimes it gives form to those memories."
"You mean it creates illusions?" Elyria asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Not illusions," Alric said gravely. "Echoes."
They descended from the watchtower an hour later, skirting the edge of the valley. Caelum led with sword drawn, Elyria followed with her twin daggers gleaming, and Alric brought up the rear, chanting low invocations under his breath.
The fog thickened as they descended into the valley. At first it was just a veil, but soon it clung to their skin, cold and wet, leeching warmth from their bones. Sounds drifted in and out—whispers, laughter, sobs—none of them human.
Suddenly, Caelum halted. "Do you hear that?"
They all listened.
A soft melody… a lullaby. Familiar, and yet warped. Elyria's heart skipped. It was her mother's lullaby—one she hadn't heard since she was five.
"That can't be—"
Before she could finish, the fog shifted.
A woman emerged from the mist, her eyes hollow, her lips smiling. She wore the colors of Elyria's childhood, and her voice sang the tune perfectly.
"Elyria, come home. It's cold out there."
Elyria froze.
"Don't listen," Alric warned, stepping forward. "It's not real."
But Elyria's legs moved against her will. One step. Then two.
Caelum grabbed her wrist. "That's not your mother."
The woman's form flickered, revealing something monstrous beneath—its mouth too wide, eyes too deep, a shroud of shadow writhing like snakes behind her. Elyria gasped, stumbling back.
Alric stepped forward, holding up his pendant. "By balance of flame and dust, I command you—return to shadow!"
The fog shrieked, the echo-woman imploding into smoke and screams. The valley trembled. For a moment, silence reigned.
"That's the nature of Memory Fog," Alric said, panting. "It gives life to what you've buried… and then it tries to bury you with it."
They pressed on in silence after that.
Every few minutes, new echoes rose. For Caelum, it was a brother lost to war, one who blamed him for surviving. For Alric, a young boy whose death he had failed to prevent.
For Elyria, it was herself—on the night she chose to run, leaving her sister behind in the flames. Her echo stared at her with hatred. "You let them die," it hissed. "You always run."
Elyria clenched her fists. "I didn't choose to live. I survived."
Caelum, ever watchful, glanced at her. "You don't have to explain it to them. They're not real."
"Don't need to be real to hurt," she muttered.
Finally, they reached the heart of the valley—a ruin older than memory itself. Pillars half-buried in moss and vine, inscriptions faded with time. And at the center, a pool of dark water, still as obsidian.
"This is it," Alric whispered. "The Mirror of Origos. One of the last relics of the First Era. If the Heartstone is hidden anywhere, it would be here."
Elyria approached, staring into the water.
Nothing.
Then her reflection shifted.
She saw herself—but older, wiser. Wearing black armor, eyes glowing with power. A crown of shadow on her brow. Behind her… Caelum lay dead. Alric's pendant shattered.
"I don't want to see this," Elyria whispered, stepping back.
"You're not meant to," Alric said. "The mirror shows possibility, not prophecy. It reflects the you that could be."
Caelum placed a hand on her shoulder. "That's not your future. You decide who you become."
Before they could react, the water rippled.
From its depths rose a creature—twisted, dark, a fusion of all the echoes they'd faced. A shifting form of faces and limbs, screaming in voices not their own.
"The Echoed Warden," Alric shouted. "It guards the Heartstone!"
The battle erupted in chaos.
Caelum lunged first, blade slashing at the creature's tendrils. Alric stood back, weaving protective wards, while Elyria moved like wind—fast, sharp, deadly.
But the Warden was relentless. It struck with shadows, whispered lies into their ears, twisted their own fears into weapons. Caelum faltered when the creature morphed into his brother's face. Alric's wards failed when the voices became that of the child he'd lost.
Elyria stood alone.
She faced the Warden as it became her mother, then her sister, then her younger self.
"I know what you are," she said coldly. "You are the guilt I carry, the fear I've fed, the pain I've buried."
She stepped forward.
"You have no power over me anymore."
And with that, she plunged her blades into the creature's core.
A scream tore the air—one of countless voices merging, twisting, then shattering like glass. The fog blew away in an instant. The valley cleared.
And in the pool, untouched, floated the Heartstone.
A crystal of deep red, pulsing like a living heart.
Alric retrieved it with reverence. "We have what we came for."
Caelum, limping from the fight, nodded. "Let's hope it was worth it."
Elyria stared at the Heartstone… and then at her reflection.
It no longer looked like a monster.
It looked like her.
But stronger.