The hum began as a whisper, like wind slipping through Eldridge's wooden shutters. Soren Vey lay in bed, staring at ceiling beams marked by his family's past—scratches from childhood games, faint burns from an old lantern fire. At eighteen, he should have been used to the hum no one else heard. Tonight, it was louder, sharper, pricking his mind like needles.
He sat up, rubbing his temples. Outside, the village was silent after a long harvest day. Eldridge sat in a misty valley, distant from the Great Resonance's ruins, where emotions became Echoes a century ago. Villagers controlled their feelings tightly; joy was tempered, anger buried. In the Fractured Lands, emotions became monsters. Soren wondered if Echoes could be measured, like a harvest's weight or a well's depth. But emotions were wild, and his gift forced him to hear them all.
His feet hit the cold dirt floor. The hum twisted into a wail, heavy with grief—not just his, but the village's, pooling like rainwater. It stirred memories: his mother's lullabies, soft and melodic, now a ghost five years after her death. Guilt followed. At her funeral, he'd sobbed openly, shaming himself before Eldridge. I should have been stronger. Tonight, the grief threatened to swallow him again.
Soren pulled on his tunic and boots, grabbing his cloak. A walk might help. As he stepped outside, a faint clink of metal echoed from the treeline, too distant to place. The night air was cool, damp. Lanterns flickered from thatched homes, casting shadows on cobblestone paths. Eldridge was small—a cluster of roofs, a central well, fields to the treeline. Safe, mostly. No red zones, no rampant Echoes. But the hum disagreed tonight.
In the village square, Lila drew water by the well, moonlight glinting off her braid. She was his age, her smile a knife through his gloom. They'd grown up climbing trees, sharing secrets. "Soren? Haunting the night again?" she called, setting down her bucket, hands on her apron. "You look spooked."
He leaned against the well, forcing a half-smile. "The hum's loud. Feels like the village is grieving."
Lila's eyes softened. "Your mom's anniversary? She was our heart. We miss her." She nudged his arm, a childhood habit. "She'd hate your moping. Help with this water. Ma's making your favorite stew tomorrow."
Her words eased his chest, grounding him. Lila was brave in quiet ways, no gifts, just fierce loyalty. But a scream shattered the night—not in his head, but real, from the village edge. Lights flared in windows as cries multiplied. Soren grabbed Lila's arm. "Stay close."
They ran toward the chaos, the hum roaring, a symphony of sorrow shaking his bones. In the square, a Griefbeast loomed—an Echo of pure despair. Its shadowy form shifted like smoke, eyes like glowing coals. Tendrils smashed a cart to splinters, the air thick with rot and ozone.
Villagers panicked. Old man Harlan froze, pale, a sob escaping him. Widow Elara swung a broom, tears streaming as she defied the beast. Others collapsed, their grief feeding it, making it swell. A child wailed, clutching a doll, as his father pulled him inside.
"Soren!" Lila's voice trembled. She shielded an elder, gripping a makeshift club despite her lack of power, her face set in grim resolve. "Don't die on me," she mouthed, her eyes fierce in the chaos.
"Get down!" Soren tackled her as a tendril whipped past, grazing his arm with icy pain. The hum exploded—grief from failed crops, lost loves, survival's weight. It drowned him, a sea of tears.
He pushed Lila behind a barrel. "Stay here. Get them out."
"But—" Her hand reached, but he moved.
The Griefbeast's coal eyes locked on him. The hum narrowed to a piercing note, his guilt surfacing: his mother's lullabies, her trembling hand brushing his cheek as illness stole her breath, his failure at her funeral. The beast lunged, shadows gaping. Soren dodged, but a tendril snared his leg, yanking him up. Pain surged, emotions flooding in, grief a void pulling him into darkness.
A dam broke in his chest. The hum surged, no longer noise but a torrent of power, searing his veins like wildfire. Nausea hit, his stomach churning, then euphoria, vertigo spinning the world. I'm not weak anymore. He reached out with his mind. Shadows gathered like ink, forming a cloaked figure with crimson eyes—his Echo, born from guilt.
The Shadow Echo severed the tendril. Soren fell, gasping, nausea lingering. The Shadow hovered, volatile yet protective, its power measurable, with edges he could sense. The Griefbeast charged again. Soren stood, the Shadow moving instinctively. "Come on," he whispered, directing it. Its claws raked the beast, dispersing chunks of shadow, but the beast reformed, its stench thickening.
Villagers fought back. Harlan hurled a torch, shouting through sobs. Elara dodged a tendril, her broom splintering the ground. Lila guided elders away, her club ready, her gaze locked on Soren. But the beast's tendrils whipped faster, villagers falling back.
Steel whistled. A woman leaped from the treeline on horseback, sword gleaming. She sliced a tendril mid-air. "Get back!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade, runic armor glinting with authority. About twenty, with short auburn hair, she was a Sentinel—Veyra, her emotions a mix of courage and hidden pain.
The beast caught her with a backswing, gashing her arm. She staggered, doubt flickering, but her Wolf Echo, sleek and spectral, lunged, giving her time to recover. Soren's Shadow clashed with the beast's core, Veyra's Wolf harrying its flanks. The beast flickered, its rot-smell fading. Soren willed his Echo deeper, absorbing a fragment of its essence. Pain flared, vertigo blurring his vision, but strength hardened under his skin.
The Griefbeast wailed, dissolving into wisps. Silence fell, broken by ragged breaths.
Soren collapsed, the Shadow retreating, leaving a chill. A status flickered in his mind:
Name: Soren Vey
Echo Affinity: Grief (Tier 1 - Volatile)
Resonance Points: 20/100
Skills: Emotional Echo (Passive)
Traits: Bone Armor (+15% Defense)
Corruption Risk: 15%
What was this? A measure of his power? A faint chill lingered in his chest, whispering of something darker within. Veyra approached, sheathing her sword, wincing. "You're Unbound. Shaping an Echo without a ritual is rare. Dangerous."
Soren met her gaze, the hum quieter but present. "What does that mean?"
"You're coming with me. The Sentinel Order needs you." She glanced at the horizon, mist stirring. "But first—"
A growl rumbled from the woods, deep and guttural. Shadows gathered, dozens of eyes gleaming in the dark. The hum surged, whispering sorrow. Soren's heart sank. One beast had nearly destroyed Eldridge. A horde would obliterate it.
Veyra's expression hardened. "More Echoes. This isn't over."
Soren stood, feeling his Shadow's pull. I can't run anymore.