The Fleets at War
The battlefield was chaos incarnate.
The Harbinger's warship bled molten fire, half its dread lances dark, but its massive bulk still loomed like a god wounded yet unbowed. Around it, his fleet fought with a desperation that was almost feral—broken hulks used as weapons, ramships detonating in suicidal bursts against Veyric's formations.
Azhira's forces cut in with surgical precision, weaving between the debris like shadows given teeth. Her voice whispered on the comms again, serpentine and cold.
"Admiral, let the Harbinger flail. Every thrash makes him bleed deeper. Strike now, before he regains balance."
But Veyric did not answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the labyrinth, on the impossible light spilling from its shifting gates. Whatever was happening inside, he knew the truth: the real war wasn't between fleets. It was in there—with the girl. With the Seed.
"Maintain formation," he barked at last. "We bleed him, yes—but we do not break. Not until we know who holds the labyrinth."
Inside the Gate
Lyra's palm touched the shimmering surface. The gate rippled outward like water struck by stone, its edges flaring with symbols too vast to comprehend.
Kaelen stepped forward, blade drawn. "If we go through, there's no turning back."
Lyra's eyes glowed faintly, silver threads dancing in her irises. "We already crossed that line the moment I touched the Seed."
She pressed forward.
The gate swallowed them whole.
The Chamber Beyond
They emerged into silence—an expanse so vast it mocked the very concept of walls. A sky of shifting stars stretched endlessly above, while beneath their feet lay a plain of black glass shot through with veins of molten light.
At its center rose a monolith: a towering spire of fractured stone, wrapped in chains that pulsed like living veins. The air thrummed with a voice that was not sound but thought—raw, invasive, infinite.
"So. The vessel arrives."
Lyra staggered, clutching her head. The Seed within her flared in response, and the chains on the spire trembled as if eager to break.
Kaelen's stance hardened. His instincts screamed that this was no echo. No illusion. This was the heart.
The Echo Lord was here. Bound. Watching. Waiting.
The Bargain Unspoken
The voice rolled across them like thunder.
"Little vessel. Do you feel it? The hunger in your marrow. The truth gnawing at your bones. You are not bearer—you are seed itself. Let me free, and I will teach you how to devour suns."
Lyra's breath hitched. Visions assaulted her: stars collapsing in her grasp, fleets burning by her will, whole civilizations bent in reverence or erased in silence.
But she also saw herself—hollow, consumed, her eyes no longer her own.
Kaelen's hand touched her shoulder, grounding her. His voice was steady, sharp. "It's lying. That thing wants nothing but ruin."
Yet even as he spoke, he knew the half-truths of predators. The Echo Lord didn't lie—it simply offered the truth in poisoned form.
Cracks in the Seal
The monolith shuddered. Chains snapped one by one, each release sending a ripple through the labyrinth. Outside, both fleets felt it—ships stuttering, comms shattering, the very void trembling like glass about to break.
On the Sovereign, Hrynn swore under her breath. "Whatever they're doing in there—it's breaking the battlefield apart."
Veyric's jaw clenched. He had gambled on Lyra, on Kaelen, on the labyrinth itself. But if the Seal shattered before its time… nothing would survive.
"Hold the line," he muttered. More to himself than to his crew. "Hold it, damn you."
The First Clash
Back inside, the Echo Lord's shadow took form. It did not rise from the spire but from Lyra's own shadow, stretching, splitting, twisting into something with no face yet infinite eyes.
Kaelen stepped forward, sword raised. "If it wants you, it'll have to pass me first."
The shadow laughed without sound. Its presence pressed against Kaelen's mind, dredging up every memory of failure, every face lost, every oath broken. His knees buckled for a heartbeat—but he forced himself upright, eyes burning with defiance.
Lyra's hand rose. For the first time, she did not recoil from the Seed's power. Silver fire bled from her fingertips, wrapping Kaelen's blade in light.
Together, they stood before the unbound spire as the shadow lunged.
The first true battle against the Echo Lord had begun.