The forest pressed in around Kael like a living cage. Shadows breathed between the trees, and every rustle of leaves seemed louder in the silence left behind after the council's decree. His exile had not been marked by ceremony—no chants, no last looks of pity—only the cold weight of eyes on his back and the blunt words: Leave, and do not return.
He had walked until the lights of the village faded, until even the faint glow of hearthfires was gone, and the world was reduced to moonlight and the crunch of frost beneath his boots. Now, as night deepened, he realized he had no destination, no guide—only the weight of his own fear and the faint hum beneath his skin.
The resonance.
It had not left him. If anything, the further he walked, the stronger it felt. It pulsed quietly, like the thrum of a hidden heart, answering to no rhythm but its own. Sometimes it surged up his arm and sparked faint light between his fingers, vanishing before he could clutch it. Sometimes it sang behind his ears, whispering sounds he could not understand. Every beat of it marked him as something other than human—something the village feared, something the world might hunt.
The Hollow Night, the elders had called it. The first night beyond the borders of one's birth, where the dark itself weighed on the spirit. Kael had heard of wanderers who never survived it. He wondered if he would join them.
He found a clearing by a half-fallen oak and gathered what dry wood he could. The branches snapped too easily in his trembling hands, but he built a crude pile and fumbled with a flint shard he'd stolen before leaving. Sparks fell uselessly into the kindling, flickering out.
His hands ached. His breath came ragged. He thought of the lantern—his relic—but he dared not use it. It had appeared only once, unbidden, its glow strange and unnatural. He feared calling it again. If the villagers were right, his very existence could draw predators—things born of resonance, twisted remnants of the old Ladders.
The sparks failed again. Kael cursed, a harsh whisper swallowed by the forest.
Then the hum in his veins rose. His fingertips warmed, the faintest glow spilling between them. It startled him, but he pressed his hands close to the wood, willing the resonance to obey. The glow flared once, died, then came again. A thin thread of light licked across the bark. Smoke curled. Then, miraculously, fire bloomed.
The flames leapt hungrily, warming his face. Relief broke through his fear, but it was short-lived. The resonance had responded, but it had not obeyed. He had not controlled it. It had acted on whim, a creature barely leashed. That thought chilled him more than the night.
He did not notice the figure at first.
The forest's silence lulled him, the fire's crackle masking the faint crunch of approaching steps. Only when a branch shifted at the edge of the clearing did Kael lift his head sharply, heart hammering.
A stranger stood there, cloaked in dark cloth, face shadowed beneath a hood. No light reflected from their eyes. For a moment, they seemed carved from the night itself.
Kael scrambled to his feet, clutching a broken branch like a weapon. "Who's there?"
The figure did not move. The firelight danced across the edge of their cloak, revealing strange embroidery—an old symbol, a fractured ladder entwined with thorns. Kael did not recognize it, but his skin prickled.
"You burn like an ember," the stranger said at last, their voice low, neither man nor woman but something blurred, like an echo. "And yet you do not know the fire you carry."
Kael gripped the branch tighter. "Stay back."
The figure chuckled softly, though it held no warmth. "Do you think you frighten me, child of resonance?"
Kael's stomach tightened. No villager would call him that. This stranger knew. Worse—they understood.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
The figure tilted their head. "To watch. To see if you will survive your Hollow Night. Few do, when the resonance sings so loud."
A howl split the night.
It came from deeper in the forest, a sound jagged and wet, not the cry of any wolf Kael had ever known. His fire flickered as if pulled by unseen breath. The stranger did not flinch.
"They come," they murmured. "Drawn to you. To your flame."
Kael's blood ran cold. "What—what comes?"
The resonance surged again, harder than before. His skin burned. He clutched at his arm, gasping, as if something within him wanted out. The stranger stepped closer to the fire, their face still hidden.
"You will learn," they said. "Tonight, or never."
The forest erupted.
From the shadows, shapes burst forth—low, twisted things with too many limbs, eyes glowing faint green. Their bodies were warped mockeries of beasts, fur mangled with shards of crystalline growth. Resonance beasts—spawn of the broken world.
Kael stumbled back, panic choking him. The resonance in his body screamed, pressing to be unleashed. He raised his hand without thinking—and the lantern appeared.
It materialized in his palm with a soft chime, its glass cracked, its glow faint but steady. Light spilled across the clearing, and the beasts recoiled, hissing.
Kael stared at it, horrified. "No… I didn't call it—"
The stranger's voice cut him off, sharp and urgent. "Hold it high, fool! Let it breathe!"
Kael obeyed instinct, raising the lantern. Its glow flared brighter, pulsing in rhythm with his racing heart. The beasts shrieked, their limbs twitching unnaturally as they edged back. But not all of them fled. One, larger than the rest, forced its way forward, teeth bared.
Kael's grip faltered. "It's not enough—"
"Then feed it," the stranger snapped. "Pour yourself into it, or die!"
Kael hesitated. The resonance within him burned, clawing at his veins. To let it out felt like opening a wound that would never close. But the beast lunged, and he had no choice.
He let it spill.
Pain ripped through him as the resonance surged into the lantern. Its cracked glass blazed with sudden brilliance, light flooding the clearing. The beast screeched, its crystal growths shattering under the glow, its body crumpling into ash. The smaller creatures fled into the trees, their howls fading into the distance.
Silence returned. The lantern dimmed, its light falling back to a soft flicker. Kael dropped to his knees, gasping, sweat chilling his skin. The resonance inside him lay quiet now, but not gone—never gone.
The stranger approached at last, stepping into the edge of the firelight. Their hood shadowed their face, but Kael glimpsed pale scars across their jaw, marks like brands.
"You live," they said simply. "Better than most."
Kael looked up at them, trembling. "What are you?"
The figure's lips curved faintly. "Not your enemy. Not yet."
They turned, cloak sweeping, and vanished into the forest as silently as they had come, leaving Kael with the dying fire and the faint glow of his lantern.
That night, Kael did not sleep. The Hollow Night had not broken him—but it had shown him the truth.
He was no longer a villager, no longer safe. He was something else now. Something the world would fear. Or hunt.
And somewhere in the dark, unseen eyes had marked him.