They did not leave the clearing quickly.
Not because they didn't want to.But because Ren's legs barely worked.
Lyra supported most of his weight, one arm around his back, the other gripping his hand as if afraid he might slip away again.Borin walked at Ren's other side, not touching him, but close enough that a single stumble would be caught instantly.
Draven trailed behind them, unusually silent, staring at the roots as though they might rise and chase him.
They didn't.
The forest was done.
For now.
Ren's steps were small, shaky.His breaths short and uneven.The silver crack on his chest had dimmed to almost nothing—but the echo inside him wasn't silent.It wasn't screaming.It wasn't calling.
It was thinking.
He could feel it.A low hum, steady and patient, like something waiting to see what he would do next.
Lyra squeezed his hand.
"Ren… can you hear me?"
"Yes."
His voice was thin.
Draven whimpered quietly.
"He sounds like a ghost that's pretending not to be a ghost—"
Borin glared.
"Draven. Not now."
Ren didn't lift his head.
"I'm fine."
Lyra stopped walking and gently turned him to face her.
"No. You're not."
Ren's lips parted, but nothing came out.
She brushed her thumb across his cheek.
"You don't have to lie to me. Not now."
Ren swallowed.
"I'm tired."
"Then lean on me," she whispered.
He did.
They kept walking.
The forest gradually shifted back to normal—light returning to the leaves,the air warming,the silence fading into birdsong.
But something had changed.Ren felt it.Lyra felt it.Even Borin seemed to sense it.
The forest was no longer neutral ground.It had chosen to recognize Ren.
And now it waited.
They reached the edge of the treeline.
The village was visible, peaceful under the early morning sky.Smoke rose from chimneys.Children ran between houses.People carried baskets of grain or buckets of water.
Ordinary life.
Normal life.
Something Ren hadn't realized he'd been missing until this moment.
Borin glanced at him.
"We're home."
Ren nodded.
But the word felt complicated now.
Lyra tightened her hold as they took the first steps onto the village path.
A woman carrying laundry gasped.
Two men stopped their conversation mid-sentence.
Whispers rose like wind.
"He's back.""What happened to the boy?""Look at his chest—what is that?""Is he cursed?""No, no—he looks exhausted—""Does he still have it in him?"
Ren lowered his head.
He didn't want them to look.Not like this.Not at the echo.Not at the trembling in his arms.
Lyra stepped in front of him, fire in her eyes.
"Go home," she told the villagers sharply."Give him space."
Borin's presence was enough to silence anyone who thought of arguing.
Draven poked his head out from behind him.
"YES, PLEASE LEAVE US ALONE, WE ARE ALL VERY TRAUMATIZED."
Lyra guided Ren to the elder's house.
The elder was already waiting.She always knew.
Her old eyes softened when she saw Ren.
"Oh, child…"
Ren tried to stand straighter.
"I'm all right."
"You are not," she said gently."And that is not a shameful thing."
Her fingers brushed the faint glow on his chest—not touching,just hovering.
"It asked you a question, didn't it?"
Ren froze.
Lyra tensed.
Borin stepped between them instinctively.
"How do you know that?" he demanded.
The elder smiled sadly.
"Because every Echo-bearer is asked the same question."
Ren's breath hitched.
"You knew… about them?"
"Only the stories."She stepped back."And the warnings."
Ren swallowed hard.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would you have listened, child?"
Ren hesitated.
She nodded.
"That path… cannot be explained.It must be faced."
Lyra clenched Ren's hand in hers.
"And he faced it."
"Yes," the elder whispered."And that is why he lived."
Ren felt a chill.
Lived.
As if the alternative had been real.
The elder studied him with eyes far older than her age.
"The echo has softened. For now."
Ren nodded.
"It's thinking."
Borin raised a brow.
"Thinking?"
"Yes."
Ren touched his chest.
"It's waiting for my next choice."
Lyra looked at him.
"And you won't make it alone."
Ren turned to her.
Her eyes were fierce.Her hand was warm.Her presence—solid.
For the first time since the seal, his voice steadied.
"I know."
The elder gestured to her door.
"Come. Rest. All of you. The path will wait until morning."
Ren stepped forward—
And the echo pulsed.
Not painfully.
Not demanding.
Just one gentle heartbeat of acknowledgment.
Ren whispered:
"I'm still me."
Lyra squeezed his hand.
"Then let's keep it that way."
They went inside.
And for the first time since the forest began whispering to him—
Ren restedwithout dreaming.