The air in the small, stone chamber hummed with a tension that had nothing to do with the Nexus. It was the silence of two people holding their breath, waiting for the other to break. Elara's gaze was fixed on Kaelen, her expression a mixture of awe and something darker, something like fear.
"You didn't just see it," she whispered, her voice barely disturbing the dusty air. "You didn't just see the echo. You… you *pulled* it. You made it real."
Kaelen looked down at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. The phantom sensation of the cold, rough-hewn wood of the training sword still tingled on his palms. He could still see it, superimposed over his own fingers for a split second before it dissolved back into shimmering nothingness. "I don't know what I did. It just… happened."
"That's not how it works!" Elara's voice rose, sharp with a frustration born from years of disciplined study. "Echo Manipulation is a precise art. You find an echo—a memory imprinted on the Nexus—and you coax it forth, give it temporary form. It requires focus, intent, and a tremendous amount of control. You can't just… *wish* a sword into existence from a story you heard once!"
"But I did," Kaelen said, a spark of defiance igniting within him. It was the same spark that had gotten him through countless foster homes and lonely nights in his old world. "You saw it. It was there."
"I know what I saw." Elara ran a hand through her short-cropped hair, pacing the length of the small room. "It shouldn't be possible. The echo of Merlin Ambrosias is ancient, fragmented. It's a tale for children. To pull a coherent, tangible object from a myth… that's not Adept-level work. That's…" She trailed off, unwilling to voice the implication.
"Maybe I got lucky," Kaelen offered, though he didn't believe it. The act had felt terrifyingly natural, like flexing a muscle he never knew he had. There had been a cost, though. A deep, hollow ache had settled in his bones, and a faint, persistent headache pulsed behind his eyes. Physical Fatigue and Mental Strain. The limitations of the magic were already making themselves known.
"Luck doesn't create a perfect echo of a legendary blade from a campfire story," Elara countered, stopping her pacing to face him. Her grey eyes were serious. "We need to understand this. Properly. No more hiding in dusty archives. We're going to the Echoing Grove."
The name sent a thrill of mingled fear and excitement through him. The Grove was the primary training ground for those studying Echo Manipulation at the Lyceum. It was where the real students practiced, the ones who belonged here. "Won't we get in trouble? I'm not exactly enrolled."
A sly smile touched Elara's lips. "The Grove is open to all who seek to understand the Nexus. Besides, everyone will be at the evening reflection. We'll have it to ourselves. Come on."
She didn't wait for an agreement, simply turning and slipping out of the chamber. Kaelen had no choice but to follow. They moved through the labyrinthine corridors of the Lyceum, a stark contrast to each other—Elara, confident and sure-footed, a native to this world of stone and magic; Kaelen, a step behind, an imposter in borrowed clothes, his sneakers silent on the ancient flagstones.
The Echoing Grove was not a grove of trees, but a vast, circular chamber open to the sky. The walls were covered in intricate, spiraling silver veins that pulsed with a soft, internal light. In the center of the room lay a large, smooth disc of obsidian. The air itself felt different here—thicker, charged, humming with the whispers of a thousand forgotten moments.
"This is it," Elara said, her voice reverent. "The silver filaments are conduits, drawing echoes from the Nexus and allowing us to interact with them safely. The plinth is the focus. Now, try again. But this time, don't reach for some grand legend. Start small. Find a recent echo. Something simple."
Kaelen approached the obsidian disc, his heart hammering against his ribs. The pressure was immense. He closed his eyes, trying to quiet the nervous chatter in his mind. He reached out, not with his hands, but with his awareness, as Elara had taught him in the archives. He pushed past the overwhelming noise of the Nexus—the fragmented whispers, the blurred faces, the echoes of countless emotions.
He sought something familiar. His mind drifted back to just an hour ago, to the chamber where Elara had been teaching him. He focused on a single, simple memory: Elara placing a cup of water on the edge of the table.
He focused on the shape of the clay cup, the slight chip on its rim, the way the water had sloshed gently inside it. He poured his intent into the memory, coaxing it forward. The air above the obsidian plinth shimmered. A form began to coalesce, hazy and indistinct. For a moment, Kaelen saw it—the ghostly outline of the cup. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, it vanished, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He stumbled back, catching himself on the cool stone wall.
"Echo Distortion," Elara said, her tone not critical, but analytical. "You lost focus. The image collapsed. It's normal for a first real attempt. Your mind isn't used to the strain. Try again."
Gritting his teeth, Kaelen pushed off from the wall. The headache was sharper now, a needle behind his eyes. He ignored it. He focused again on the cup. This time, he poured more of himself into it, grasping for the echo with a desperate need to prove he could do it. The shimmer returned, stronger this time. The form of the cup solidified, hovering inches above the plinth. It was perfect in every detail, even the bead of condensation he hadn't consciously remembered.
A triumphant smile started to form on his lips, but it died instantly.
The echo didn't stop.
The cup multiplied. A second appeared beside the first, then a third, a fourth—a dozen ghostly cups swirling in the air. Their forms began to warp, stretching and melting like wax. The hum of the Grove intensified into a discordant shriek. The silver veins on the walls flared violently.
"Kaelen , stop!" Elara cried out, her hands over her ears. "You're over-saturating it! You're pulling too much!"
But Kaelen couldn't stop. It was as if a dam had broken inside him. The magic was a torrent, and he was caught in the current. The distorted echoes of the cups swarmed together, morphing into a shape.
Darkness enveloped them , a figure who had disappeared from the party when chaos had begun.
Though his face was hidden by the shadows they could more or less tell from the bright golden hue of his eyes.
Like a shadow in a see of endless night he swept into their location positioning himself perfectly in front of the riptide of energy that Kaelen had lost control of.
Elara gasped , anxious to see the result.
What would happen?
Will we survive?
Why is the cup out of control?
Currently those were the thoughts that had floated in her head . But it was futile to worry about those things , because when the figure before them appeared she instantly felt relieved.
Why was that?
She didn't know?
What was he going to do.
That's what she thought then a strange, unfamiliar sense of curiosity washed over her mind .
With a smirk she said , "Show me what you can do , Everett Forestria."